Salem, Mass
by Sirannon
Summary: Dean and Sam check out some weird demonic happenings in Salem. Dean finds himself drawn to a goth beauty in the process. Is she responsible for the evil?
1. Chapter 1

_Rated:_ PG-13 (Language and possible Sexual Content)

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing herein written that is not original.

_Feedback/Reviews/Comments:_ **APPRECIATED!**

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**Salem, Mass**

Chapter 1

"Hey, check this out." The laptop's eerie glow reflected off Sam's intent face. Daylight was fading and the motel room had grown dim. Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder looking at the Salem News website.

"First, the local river rose and fell 10 feet in a day," read Sam. "There was no unusual tidal activity or rainfall to explain it. Then a pod of pilot whales washed ashore, dying before the next high tide could take them out to sea again."

"And last week," Sam continued, "an earth tremor measuring 5.1 on the Richter was felt across the Salem area. The largest of its magnitude in State recorded history. Again, experts are at a loss to explain the event as no continental plates are nearby."

"Weird," stated Dean.

"Yeah, really weird." Sam agreed.

oo00oo

"Welcome to Salem Massachusetts." Sam read the sign aloud as they drove past it.

Dean geared the Impala down, the engine rumbling as they coasted into the town limits.

"More than 20 people were executed during the 1692 Witch Trials," Sam read from the 'Salem Witch Museum' pamphlet he'd picked up at the gas station a few miles back.

"Most were hanged," he continued, "however some were 'pressed' to death."

"Oh dude," Dean half grimaced, half laughed. "What a way to go."

"I can think of worse," Sam morosely gazed out the passenger-side window at the quaint main street.

Dean smirked as they passed a few New Age mystical shops claiming to sell magical accessories. Pointy hats to go with your broom? Passing a 7-Eleven with a group of Goth teens huddled in front he muttered, "Witches these days."

"You got a thing against witches?" Sam smiled at his older brother.

"I got a thing against posers," Dean replied.

oo00oo

The bar was pretty crowded: a mix of regular small town folk and some strikingly tall black-clad Goths. Dean could just make out the neon beer signs on the far wall through the cigarette smoke. He thought he heard strains of Sabbath from the jukebox.

"My kind of place," he said mainly to himself.

"It's okay," commented Sam.

oo00oo

Lyra was playing pool with Mitch and his coven. She was losing but didn't care. Her focus had been lacking lately but even more so tonight after the two strangers had sat at the bar.

They were both tall and all-American looking but she sensed a definite darkness about them both. Deep sorrow emanated from the sweet-faced, dark-haired one. Perhaps some psychic abilities there as well, she thought.

Looking at them, she didn't think they were responsible for evil but that they had certainly had some close encounter with it. Interesting…

The one with the sandy-colored short hair had beautiful green eyes. Or were they brown? It was hard to tell in the bar's dim light. Strong chin and his lips were…wow. Really nice. Suddenly he looked her way and caught her checking him out. Flashing her a million-watt smile she averted her gaze embarrassingly quickly.

"Fuck," she muttered.

"You're up Lyr!" Mitch hollered over the heavy metal pounding out of the jukebox.

"Focus you twit," she chastised herself as she assessed the pool table. Seeing an easy bank shot she positioned herself over the cue ball and leaned forward over the table. Perhaps the black lace-up top and push-up bra weren't the best choice for playing pool tonight but she was still trying to suck up to creepy old Mitch and the rest of his wanna-be cronies. She became acutely aware of Green Eyes checking her out from the bar. God his eyes were intense.

She hit the white ball solidly with her cue stick but in turn it hit the 7-ball off the mark sending it spinning in the wrong trajectory totally missing the intended pocket. Swearing under her breath again she straightened up.

"What the fuck, Lyra?" Mitch was exasperated with her play tonight. Normally she was a lot better than this.

She shrugged laughing. "I don't know, man. Bad night I guess."

Her opponent, Vince, patted her on the shoulder as he passed by to take his turn.

"Well we do appreciate it Lyra. You're making it real easy tonight."

"She's distracted," piped up Summer perched on a barstool watching the pool game. Obnoxious git, thought Lyra, shooting her a glare. Summer tossed her head towards Green Eyes at the bar and Mitch followed her nod.

If I didn't need this stupid coven desperately, thought Lyra, I'd slap that smarmy grin off your fat mouth.

"You know those guys?" Mitch asked Lyra.

"No," she responded a little too keenly.

"You want to?"

"Nah." She tried to sound more casual. Seemingly focused on the pool game.

No good, she thought as Mitch sauntered over to the bar. Damn. At 6 foot, 3 inches Mitch was physically imposing. Broad-shouldered and mutton-faced, clad in jeans, motorcycle boots, black t-shirt and a knee-length black leather overcoat. Fucking bike-man of the Apocalypse, thought Lyra.

"Stan!" Mitch yelled to the barkeep busy at the other end of the bar. "Another round!"

Slapping cash down on the bar Mitch turned his attention to Sam sitting next to him.

"You new here?" he asked intrusively.

Sam sensed Dean tense up. Coiling for a fight. "Uh, yeah." Sam managed caught between the two alpha males.

Scanning Mitch for concealed weapons, Dean detected no ankle or shoulder holsters, maybe a knife in his pocket. Mitch leaned menacingly towards Sam. "Watch out for witches," he teased with a wicked grin revealing a couple gold teeth and a lifetime of poor dental hygiene.

Sam held his ground, not pulling back. Coolly a long slender pool cue entered the close space between Mitch's sinister maw and Sam's unresponsive face. Lyra slapped the cue stick to Mitch's chest. "Your turn," she informed him.

Looking annoyed but taking the cue and the hint, Mitch made his way back to the pool table. Lyra sidled up to the bar next to Sam. "Sorry about him."

"Salem welcome wagon?" Sam asked.

"Something like that."

The bartender placed four cold beers in front of Lyra. She handed over Mitch's money. Dean sprang at the opportunity thrusting his palm out in front of Sam's face.

"Hi, I'm Dean."

Lyra smiled genuinely. His charm was undeniable. She had a lovely mouth, thought Dean. White teeth against deep red full lips, when she smiled she revealed dimples in her velvety pale complexion. The first truly beautiful Goth he'd seen. Snow White, Rose Red he thought randomly.

"Lyra," shaking Dean's hand.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean interjected, "This is my little brother Sam." Why did he have to use the word little? Sam thought, What the hell Dean?

"Lyra," Dean continued gaining momentum. "Italian?"

"Uh no. Spelt L-Y-R-A." Why didn't she just give him her phone number too? She wondered wildly.

"Like the constellation," said Sam giving Dean a superior look whose brows knitted trying to comprehend.

Lyra rewarded Sam's intellect with an appreciative smile. Dimples deepened. "Dad was an amateur astronomer," she explained.

"Oh yeah? Where would he stargaze?"

Dean didn't like the sudden hi-jack of his conversation with Lyra. What the hell, Sam? And did he just use the word stargaze?

"Those beers still cold!" Mitch yelled across the bar. God, why did he have to yell so fucking much. So annoying.

Grabbing the beers and smiling politely at both Winchester brothers she bid them a good evening and headed back to the pool table.

oo00oo

Dean zipped his fly and stepped away from the urinal. He could hear Mitch's obnoxious voice just inside the men's room doorway.

"Most powerful fucking coven on the eastern seaboard!" Mitch was boasting to a large, hairy biker dude. "Hell, maybe even the whole continent."

Mitch's tone dropped to a hoarse whisper but Dean could hear him clearly over the running water of the sink as he rinsed his hands. "Shit, did you feel that tremor last week?"

Dean's hands froze beneath the stream of the tap. This guy was actually taking credit for an earth tremor?

As Mitch and his friend staggered away from the bathroom, Dean returned to the bar to find Sam.


	2. The Tarot Reading

The part of Lyra's father will be played by Scottish comedian/actor Billy Connolly : )

If you've seen the Lemony Snicket film, he's the one who plays 'Uncle Monty'.

The Tarot card meanings come from: 'Secrets of the Tarot' by Annie Lionnet

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Chapter 2

Sam was trying to absorb what Dean just told him he'd overheard in the men's room. The pool playing, biker dude was claiming responsibility for an earth tremor. Was he crazy?

The bar was filling up now. Many of the plaid-shirted working guys had left for the evening, replaced by a rougher, rock and roll crowd. Bad beards and black leather abounded.

"Let's go," suggested Sam.

A band was taking the stage at the end of the bar. Several guys in their 40s, maybe 50s, steely-colored long hair, tough faces, armed with guitars and drum sticks. Lyra came onstage last. She'd pulled her hair back and tied a Harley-Davidson bandana on her head. Strapping the guitar over her shoulder she tapped her amp with her foot. She was to the right of the lead singer who struck a loud chord on his guitar and proceeded into the blistering opening riff of Ted Nugent's 'Stranglehold'.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," replied Dean who ordered another beer.

oo00oo

Lyra shuffled the cards gently, letting her mind drift over the events of the evening. Even tarot novices knew that the key to a good reading was spending a long time carefully handling the cards before laying them out. Infusing them with your subconscious before pondering your life's questions with them.

Her life's questions. Wow. Where to start. Her mind was not calm right now. Thoughts glanced off each other. Feelings of vengeance colliding with despair, strong intuition met faltering confidence, passion dissolved into despondency. Where to begin?

Calm down, she told herself. She lit the candles on the dining room table and turned off all the lights in the flat. Opening the living room window, a cool night breeze swept the room as she re-took her seat. Inhaling deeply she dealt the cards. Ten of them in the 'Celtic Cross' spread. A classic layout with enough cards to try to encompass all the people and events crowding her life currently. She laid all the cards facedown to start, then over-turned the position 1 card. One at a time she concentrated on the back of the card, focusing on a person or a concern then turned the card to reveal and contemplate its meaning in connection to her thoughts.

She turned over The Fool: new beginnings, untapped potential, possibly a new start to life. The image on the card was always that of a carefree youth commencing a journey. Not without risks though, he is blissfully unaware that one false step could mean his downfall, however the journey could bring surprising revelations. The outcome is uncertain and an act of faith may be required to follow the course.

Thinking about the two handsome brothers she'd met tonight she wondered about the purpose of their journey. She knew they were traveling, transient. Why they were in Salem she didn't know. Sam definitely had some untapped psychic potential and Dean... well Dean seemed the impulsive type. Ready for anything.

The next card revealed The Hierophant: a mentor of deep spirituality, inner wisdom and higher awareness providing guidance and support. Definitely her father, she thought. He'd done an awesome job on the Foos song tonight. She'd finally got him to learn a song from this decade. He was the coolest.

Pausing before overturning the third card. She pictured Sam: earnest, soft brown eyes, sensitive but certainly no pushover. She expected to see a Knight as she turned the card and was surprised, pleasantly, to see the High Priestess. This card always suggested intuition and psychic ability. Growing up, Lyra's mother had done her readings countless times. They almost always contained the High Priestess.

The fourth card's position represented past events underlying the current situation. Carefully turning the card, she saw the Hanged Man. "Katie!" Lyra gasped. The image of a man trapped: stuck in limbo causing feelings of fear and anxiety as a turning point approaches. A painful time in which something of value might need to be sacrificed in order to move forward.

Her hand hovered over the fifth card as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Thinking of Katie hanging in limbo left her feeling bereft. Looking for something to grasp onto she thought of Dean's steady gaze. She'd had to laugh when he'd hung around after the gig. Complimenting her on her mastery of classic rock and heavy metal guitar. He said he'd loved her version of Sabbath's 'Paranoid'. A lot of guys said that but Dean seemed different somehow. He was definitely strange but not unpleasant, certainly not to look at. Picturing his smile, light stubble on his chin, those lips… full of promise? She turned the card. Strength. Smiling she looked down at the image on the card of Hercules dominating the lion. Also known as Fortitude: this card indicated determination and physical power but also stamina to cope with any given situation, no matter how challenging. It didn't just indicate physical strength but courage and conviction. Fortitude was one of the most auspicious cards in the deck. To be represented by it indicated great strength of character and enormous ability.

She took the Strength card from the table, sliding it into her jeans pocket. His tarot symbol, she'd want it close to her in these next few days.

The sixth card: an indicator of what is immediately before you. Future forces, hinting at events in the immediate future. She overturned The Devil. Perfect, she thought.

Tarot readers were always quick to calm clients' fears of the Devil card, telling them it signified frustration and feelings of entrapment. Truth was, the card sometimes indicated evil. Sometimes the Devil card was what it was.

Breathing a sigh of resignation Lyra looked to the final four cards. The Tower: indicator of sudden and dramatic upheaval. Well, not surprising if she had the Devil immediately ahead of her.

The Ten of Swords dismayed her somewhat. The card's image was of a man lying facedown with ten swords protruding from his back. Not good. This card indicated the end of a painful situation, a time at which one might be feeling at one's lowest ebb. This struck a chord.

If you could accept the situation, as depressing as it might be, you might find the strength to overcome the crisis and eventually emerge stronger because of it.

"Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," she murmured to herself.

The final two cards lifted her spirits substantially: The Two of Cups indicating a positive love affair. A good card when thinking of starting a relationship: it suggested a loving and trustworthy partner.

And finally, The Stars: card of hope, heralding good fortune and faith in a better future. It was the light that shows the way forward.

Quite a reading, thought Lyra sitting back to take in the whole spread of cards. Feeling exhausted, she closed her eyes briefly, touching the Fortitude card within her pocket. She'd put it under her pillow tonight while she slept.

oo00oo

It was exactly the kind of New Age, mystical crap store that Dean hated. Incense reeking, shelves upon shelves of books written by ignorant "experts" on everything from alien abduction to finding your 'protector angels' book-ended by huge crystals and useless rocks. Everything over-priced, everything ineffective.

"Gimme a 12-gauge and some rock salt anytime," he murmured to himself looking sceptically at a large Native American 'dream catcher' hanging from the ceiling.

Four teenage girls were clustered in a corner holding a box that read Ritual Love Kit on the side. The girls looked over at Sam and Dean and immediately broke into urgent whispering that quickly devolved into boisterous giggling.

"Can we get out of here?" Dean pleaded to his brother.

Ignoring the teenage girls' stares Sam perused the bookshelves. "No," he replied. "The name of this shop stood out from the others."

Sam found the book he was looking for and took it from the shelf.

"Celtic Deities?" Dean read the cover.

Sam flipped from the index to the middle of the book reading aloud, "Cocidius - the god of hunting in North Britain."

"Okay…" Dean failing to see the significance. "So this store's named after a Celtic god of hunting. So what?"

"_Hunting_ Dean."

Giving Sam an exasperated look Dean was at a loss. Fortunately the teenage girls had made their purchase and were leaving the store.

"Can I help ya find anythin', lads?" a good-natured, Scottish brogue rang out behind them.

Sam turned to face a Scotsman equal in his height and about thirty years older than himself. Grey wavy hair framed a warm face with bright blue eyes. "Uh, we're just browsing," Sam replied.

"Well, carry on then." Sizing up Dean the Scotsman added, "I've a new section over here on protective spells and weaponry."

Dean's brows furrowed slightly. Why does he think I'm interested in protection and weaponry? Following the Scottish man's lead he saw a glass display case full of knives. Some were tiny ritual daggers others were the size of full-length hunting knives with ornately carved handles and etched blades.

"Cool," murmured Dean.

"Dad," called a feminine voice from the back room of the shop. "Don't forget to order more sage."

A tall, brunette emerged carrying an armful of books, she was barely recognizable from last night. Lyra's hair was piled loosely atop her head, lots of tendrils falling down around her long elegant neck. She was wearing eyeglasses and very little makeup. Without the cool, pale makeup of last night her complexion had a warm glow to it, cheeks with a rose hue. Her full lips were a natural dark pink, not dramatic scarlet. She looked like some kind of sexy librarian thought Dean. Since when had he been attracted to librarians?

Catching him staring, she gave Dean a sly smile. "Hello again," she said simply.

"Hi," was all Dean could manage. Was it dry in here?

"Oh aye," replied Lyra's father. "I'll place the order before they close."

Dean eyed the Scotsman more closely. "Hey," he began, "weren't you the lead guitarist of the band last night?"

Lyra's father smiled broadly. "Yes," he admitted. "That's my little group."

"Nice job on 'Back in Black'. You guys sounded great."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Putting his hand out, "Jim Macleod."

Dean took the large Scot's hand.

"And this is my daughter, Lyra."

"We met last night actually. I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sam."

While Sam shook hands, Dean stole another glance at Lyra who was reaching to replace books to their proper shelves. Admiring the curve of her waist as her shirt lifted slightly revealing creamy white skin.

"Was your story true last night?" Dean asked Jim.

"Which story?"

"That you were on Sabbath's road crew in the 70s?"

"Oh aye," Jim nodded. "I've known Ozzy for going on 30 years now. Pretentious wanker."

Dean laughed. "What?"

"Well all that devil-worship crap," Jim elaborated. "It was one thing to take the name 'Black Sabbath' but going on like he did and biting the head off that poor wee bat in Texas."

"My uncle was at that show!" Dean looked enthralled. Lyra smiled and returned to her work. She'd heard this story a million times.

"Ozzy didn't even know who Alistair Crowley was until I told him the stories of the British witchcraft revival. Bloody Anglican boy from Birmingham is what he was."

"Wow." Dean's face was like a kid's on Christmas morning.

"And steer clear of all that Crowley shite," Jim instructed Sam who was perusing the witchcraft section of books. "Bunch of Victorian elitists."

Jim grabbed a book from the Self-Help section handing it to Sam.

"Attuning to Your Own Psychic Abilities?" Sam cocked an eyebrow while reading the title aloud.

Dean looked a little startled. How the hell did this guy know Sam was developing the Shining?

"Would you like to see some of my rock n' roll memorabilia, lad?"

Here we go, thought Lyra. "I'll put the kettle on," was all she said.

Holding the black velvet curtains back so the Winchesters could enter the back room of the shop Jim gave his daughter a wink. "Perhaps," he suggested to her, "we could have something a wee bit stronger than tea?"

As she passed her father into the back room, close enough to speak quietly and be heard. "The 12 or 18-year-old single malt, then?"

"Ooh, I think the 18-year-old would be appropriate," he whispered back.


	3. Salem Witch Museum

Chapter 3

Lyra placed the four glasses of scotch on the table, taking a seat opposite her father.

"Slanté," said Jim taking a glass.

"Cheers," replied Dean clinking glasses with the other three. Taking a sip he thought of fresh cut grass and a warm night while the amber fluid heated his throat.

Sam's eyebrows arched as he tried not to show a reaction to the fiery liquor. "Nice," he managed hoarsely.

Lyra smiled at Sam. He was genuinely sweet. His older brother must watch out for him a lot she speculated.

oo00oo

"Your dad's a pretty cool guy," Dean was attempting to fill the lapse in conversation. Neil Young's 'Old Man' emanated softly from the stereo. Sam was back out in the front of the store looking at some kind of talisman or something Jim had wanted to show him.

"Yeah he is," Lyra replied.

"He must worry about you."

Lyra's smooth white brow furrowed. Where was he going with this?

"Running with the crowd that you do," Dean continued. No point putting off the inevitable. He had to confront her about this sometime.

"What crowd would that be?"

"Guys who claim to be responsible for making the earth move," Dean smiled wryly leaning towards her and lowering his tone. "And not in _that_ way. I'm talking 5.1 on the Richter."

Lyra's blue eyes grew about fifty degrees colder. Fucking Mitch, she thought heatedly. He was going to get an earful from her about this. Idiot!

"I have no idea what you're talking about," leaning in and speaking softly. She could out-maneouveur this guy easily. Batting her thick eyelashes she saw Dean's gaze fall on her slightly parted lips. She made her move.

His lips were softer than she expected. Pillowy but hesitant, he wasn't sure how to respond. She persisted, lightly running the tip of her tongue across his full lips. They opened immediately. She smiled to herself as his hand came up quickly to grasp the back of her neck pulling her head gently but urgently closer. Their kiss deepened. His hand cupped the side of her face; thumb delicately traced her cheek. A deeply caring gesture, she was surprised by her response. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel this way.

This wasn't what she'd intended. She heard a voice but didn't care. All she knew was Dean's open mouth, warm and welcoming. Faintly tasting of scotch. Her sudden moistness made her shift in her chair.

"Dean!" Sam stuck his head through the velvet curtains. "We have to go."

Glaring at his younger brother Dean replied sharply, "I heard you the first time!"

Sam's head popped back through the curtain leaving Dean and Lyra alone again. Smiling half-heartedly at her Dean warned, "We're not through with this."

"Uh-huh," Lyra leaned back watching Dean pull his jacket closed as he rose from his chair. Presumably to hide the strain in his jeans as he exited the back room.

"I certainly hope not," she said to herself.

Dean looked cross as he walked down the sidewalk beside his brother, although not nearly as cross as Sam.

"What the hell were you doing back there?" Sam demanded.

"What'd it look like?"

"Don't get involved with her, Dean. She's running with a seriously dangerous crowd."

"Don't really care about her friends."

Sam stopped short and grabbed his older brother's shoulder pushing him against the side of the building they were passing. Lowering his voice to an angry whisper, "You know as well as I do what it takes to summon a force of nature like an earthquake or kill a bunch of whales."

Dean pushed his brother's arm off his.

"You know what she's playing with, right?" Sam persisted.

"A demon," Dean admitted quietly, angrily eyeing the Impala and wishing he could get the fuck out of this town right now.

"Like the kind that killed mom." Sam's tone softened, "She's bad news, Dean."

oo00oo

Sam found Dean standing in front of a poster-size enlargement of a 17th century woodcut. They were the only visitors in the Salem Witch Museum at the moment. The image of a Puritan woman tied to a stake, flames licking at her long skirts, her face contorted in anguish surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.

"I thought most of the witches were hanged?" commented Dean.

"Supposedly they were but witch burnings were common across medieval Europe. The tradition probably continued here."

Sam looked around the room at the various scary-looking tools of the witch-hunting trade. They even had a real iron maiden near the exit.

"There were so many violent and unwarranted deaths in this town there must be an enormous amount of malevolent spirits hanging around."

Checking that no one was nearby Dean whispered, "I thought you said it was a demon?"

"It's got to be but the whole area's probably full of spiritual unrest. Like a metaphysical open sore."

"Dude," Dean couldn't resist any opportunity to tease his younger brother. "Metaphysical open sore?"

"You know exactly what I mean. The whole town could be full of unstable, vengeful spirits willing to assist something larger, more evil into this plane."

"Well, knowing what we're up against is half the battle," agreed Dean.

"So how do we destroy it?"

"That's the tricky part," Dean eyed the iron maiden dismally.

A polite cough emanated from across the room. "We're closing in 10 minutes, gentlemen."

Dean and Sam turned to see a balding man dressed in grey cardigan and tweed trousers shuffling towards them.

"Okay," said Sam. "Uh, can we ask you a couple of questions though?"

"Of course young man. Ask away."

"Well, we were in the Macleod's store earlier. Interesting place, you know them?"

"A little," answered the museum curator. "Nice family."

"Uh, yeah." Dean replied.

"Shame about the other daughter though," said the elderly man sadly shaking his head.

"What?" Sam asked, "What other daughter?"

"The missing one. That's why they moved here a few months back. To look for her but far as I've heard, no one knows what happened to her."

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look.

"What can you tell us about Jim and Lyra?" asked Dean.

"Well," began the curator with a wry smile. "You've probably noticed this town has no short supply of stores claiming to by purveyors of witchcraft supplies and Wiccan knowledge."

"Sure," agreed Dean. "I bet there's some real interesting Chamber of Commerce meetings around here."

"Well, most of the folks who run these shops are dabblers. You know new age, crystal-loving, environment-protecting people who just missed the hippy boat and are looking for an alternative religion."

"And the Macleods?" prompted Sam.

"They're the real deal," stated the curator simply.

"The 'real deal'?" Dean repeated.

"Pagan family from way back. They can trace their ancestry to the ancient Celt mages." Pointing at the picture of the woman burning at the stake, the curator continued. "Reason why their family survived the 'Burning Times' in Europe is that they lived so far up in the Highlands. Real mystical country that, Scotland and Ireland. Standing stones, ley lines, diviners of genuine Earth Magic."

Sam and Dean were a bit stunned by the old man's speech. Clearly he had a great deal of respect for the Macleods and their lineage. Sam found his voice first, "And you say a daughter is missing?"

"Yup, Lyra's sister. Kate, I believe her name was. Up and vanished without a trace."

The overhead lights in the museum flickered once and then went out altogether. Dean and Sam fumbled their way towards the door following the red light of the emergency exit sign just above it. Helping the elderly man to the door they thanked him for his time.

Out on the street, people were filing out of their homes and businesses talking excitedly to each other. A man passed them quickly putting on a Salem Volunteer Fire Department jacket, jumping into a nearby pickup truck he called to the curator, "Fire called in, down at the power plant."


	4. Raging Waters

**Chapter 4**

Slamming the car door shut, Dean assessed the situation. Two pumper trucks were already here but no water was spraying out of the hoses yet. An acrid smell hung in the air and there was a faint buzzing sound inside the fence encircling the hydro facility.

"Over there," Sam pointed at black smoke rising from the far side of the power plant.

"This way," replied Dean heading towards a narrow path between the neighbouring forest and the fence. They followed the perimeter of the fence until it cornered, protecting the south end of the hydro facility.

Across a grassy meadow, Dean and Sam saw a wrought iron fence. Behind it lay gravestones. Amidst the graves they saw Mitch, Lyra and the other members of their coven watching the black smoke rising from the hydro transformers.

oo00oo

"I'd say that went pretty well tonight," commented Lyra's father as she entered his cabin.

The light from the fireplace flickered on his face. She could still smell the pungent burnt sage in the room. She knew he'd seen everything tonight using his silver bowl that now sat innocuously on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, pretty well," she replied.

"You don't sound so impressed."

"I'm just getting tired of dealing with these tedious lesser demons. They're petty and they sap my energy."

"Ready for the big kahuna, are you?"

Lyra collapsed into the armchair opposite her father sighing. Looking him in the eye, she did look tired but he saw more than exhaustion in her eyes. He saw the uncertainty.

Reaching across to pat her knee, "We're not quite ready for him yet. As much as I'd like to face him as well, we'll need to summon a few more of his minions before that."

Rising from his chair to head for the kitchen he continued, "And we'll need more help. Perhaps those lads could be of assistance."

"What!" Lyra shot her father a look like he was crazed.

"They're not unfamiliar with confronting evil. Perhaps they've even faced a demon."

"You think?"

"They're not just some paranormal detectives or ghost hunters," Jim persisted while putting the kettle on the gas burner. "They've been in close contact with real evil, Lyra. I can tell."

"Yeah, I kind of got that vibe too," she admitted. "But I'm not sure they can help us."

"Earl Grey or Camomile?"

"Earl Grey please." Lyra remembered what she'd meant to tell her father, "They saw me in the graveyard with Mitch's coven."

"When? Tonight?"

"Yeah. Right after the fire started in the power plant."

"What happened with that anyway?"

"I don't know. I thought I had a good hold on the ley line but when the demon finally subjugated all hell broke loose."

Jim laughed bitterly at the pun as he poured the boiling water into mugs.

Looking dejectedly into the fireplace Lyra sighed, "I guess I'm not ready for the big kahuna."

"Nevermind, lass." Jim placed the mug of tea on the table next to her. "No one was injured in the fire and there'll be loads of hydro workers earning some overtime pay tonight."

oo00oo

"Look at this burn mark." Sam pointed to the ground near his feet.

Dean walked through the grave markers to stand next to Sam. He saw a long, straight black line in the grass heading directly towards the hydro plant.

"What do you think that is?" asked Sam.

"Beats me but the EMF is freaking out," replied Dean looking at his homemade handheld electro-magnetic detector.

Dean walked towards a large burnt area. A circle about 10 feet in diameter, the smell of charred grass still fresh. Every light on the EMF lit up as it chirped its electronic warning.

"Something very strange went down here," Dean looked around warily. Mitch and Lyra were long gone.

oo00oo

"Lyra," Dean whispered. His breath ragged in her ear. Pushing her hips against his she felt his pace increase. Shuddering in ecstacy Lyra felt him fill her completely. He bent to kiss her. A long slobbery tongue covered her lips.

Waking suddenly Lyra saw her father's wolfhound looking down at her lying on the couch. Reflexively licking her lips she tasted dog breath.

"Ewww. Riley!" she said wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. "You are so gross."

Riley grinned widely, long red tongue hanging out between sharp teeth.

She must have fallen asleep in front of the fire. A heavy throw covered her and her dad had brought her favourite pillow out to the couch. It was a pretty comfortable bed, the old cabin sofa, she had to admit. And after last night, she hadn't felt like returning to her empty flat alone.

"You should brush your teeth more often," she told the dog as she rose to take her own advice.

oo00oo

"Did you think anymore on how our new friends might help us out?" Jim asked while stirring his coffee across the breakfast table from Lyra.

"Our new friends?" Lyra looked up from her book.

"The Winchester lads."

"I'm not sure I'd call them friends yet, Dad."

"Well, whatever they are. I think they could help."

"How exactly?"

"Well, the dark one. You know…Sam. Might be some psychic talent there. A bit raw but definitely could be honed."

"Okay…" Lyra wasn't sure she wanted to have this conversation right now. Aside from the sexually graphic dream she'd had about Dean this morning, she had just been trying to get her head around a passage in the book about the defensive use of leyline energy.

"I'm not sure about the older brother though."

"Dean?"

"Yes, Dean." Jim paused thoughtfully sipping his coffee. "Well, at the very least he could serve as an _alchemist paramour_."

"What!" Lyra's knee banged the kitchen table painfully.

"Well, you know what I mean," her father continued, taking an advisorly tone. "A mystical tryst could enhance your powers threefold."

"Dad!" Jumping to her feet Lyra's face flushed.

"Mind you," Jim eyed her over his coffee cup. "You'd do best to have the first time in a graveyard. Very powerful magic, that."

Mortified Lyra shut her eyes briefly trying to sound remotely calm. "I'm going for a walk, Dad."

oo00oo

Lyra stalked down the path through the woods. Born and raised pagan at home, she'd been sent to Catholic school as a child in the Highlands before moving with her father to the United States at 13. Her father's non-Christian views on sex and his candid manner embarrassed her sometimes.

How could he talk to her like that? Over breakfast no less? Could we at least save the sex talk until after dinner?

He'd meant it as earnest advice. A bit of instruction on how Lyra could get better at her Craft. He was coaching her after all. Why couldn't he show her how to use the divining bowl more accurately? Jeez.

She heard the waterfall before she saw it. Coming into view, white water raced over black rocks. Long green grass reached out over the bankside wet with spray. The sound of the pounding water was calming, the colours of forest meeting white water soothing.

Kneeling at the edge of the falls, she pulled the candle and the necklace from her pocket. Carefully she placed the necklace on top of a flat black rock. Melting the bottom of the candle with her lighter she stuck it to the rock within the circle of gold chain. Catching the dappled sunlight filtered through the trees, the triple crescent pendant on the necklace glistened. Symbol of the Goddess. Mother, maiden, crone. The three aspects of the moon. Katie had barely gone anywhere without wearing it. It was her protector, her icon. It hadn't protected her from everything.

oo00oo

"So the river doesn't source from the ocean," Sam informed Dean. "There's no way the 10 foot rise in the water level could be the result of tides."

Sam and Dean walked down the sidewalk leading from the Fish & Wildlife office and got into the car. Their inspection of the power plant fire had yielded nothing. No power surges or accidents had caused the fire and judging by the appearance of Mitch's coven and the weird burn marks in the cemetary they were fairly sure he had something to do with it. At a loss, Sam and Dean were going back in time, back to the weird occurrence with the river. There had to be some clues somewhere.

"The river originates out of a nearby hill." Sam continued, "Burk's Falls. About 10 miles from town, off County Road 32."

"Let's check it out then," Dean turned the key. The Impala's engine roared to life.

oo00oo

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they rolled to a stop in the small parking area just off the county road. Getting out of the car, Dean and Sam surveyed the densely wooded surroundings.

"There's a path over here," called Sam as he headed into the forest.

They heard the waterfall before they saw it. The river dropped vertically about 70 feet. The sounds of their footsteps were concealed by the roar of the falls. Lush green grass and moss met shiny black rocks against the backdrop of the raging white water. Dean's senses felt heightened by the vivid colours and pungent fresh smells of the forest.

Lyra was almost camoflaged in her dark green cloak as she knelt in the soft grass. She'd placed a large white candle on a black rock and salted the immediate area around her. Some herbs lay on the rock next to the candle encircled by a fine gold necklace. An altar in nature, thought Dean.

Lyra's lips were moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Moving closer he heard her invoking the Goddess. Asking for protection and strength for her family in the task that lay ahead. Begging peace for her sister's soul.

Realization sunk in for Dean. This wasn't an ostentatious ceremony, a theatrical Wiccan ritual like the sort he'd seen covens perform before - no flourish and drama, no weilding of long swords around large bonfires calling out the names of age-old gods. This was a deeply private, quiet veneration. Lyra really was a devout Wiccan, not just a self-stylized Goth poser. He suddenly felt intrusive; they'd invaded her solitude. Catching Sam's look he recognized that Sam had come to the same conclusion and was quietly moving up the path back the way they'd come.

Too late. She sensed them. Rising from her knees in one fluid motion, her cloak swirled as she turned to face them. Her alibastair cheeks flared crimson, blue eyes blazed coldly. Beads of water glistened on her shoulders reflecting the sun's fading light. There were tiny droplets on her face, though Dean wasn't sure they were from the waterfall's fine mist. He had an impulse to apologize though he wasn't sure what for. Flashing his trademark smile he stepped towards her in an attempt to smooth things over. He felt a pushing sensation on his chest. He couldn't step forward if he tried. Lyra was several feet away from him.

"What the hell?"

"You should go," she said coolly.

Dean didn't like being pushed around psychokinetically or otherwise, "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Do you?" Lyra shot back.

"You should be careful," Sam interjected. "You're tampering with powerful forces."

A bitter laugh burst from Lyra. "I know what they're capable of, believe me."

"You're summoning demons!" Dean burst out.

"What concern is it of yours?"

"You're endangering innocent people," Dean warned.

He'd touched a nerve. A wind blew Lyra's dark hair away from her face, leafy branches swayed overhead. "No one's been injured," she replied.

"Yet," Dean pointed out. "Why are you summoning them?"

Lyra's eyes narrowed "Who are you?" Looking at Sam, "What do you want?"

"We're looking for someone we lost too," stated Sam in his simple, soft tone.

Looking as though she'd been struck, Lyra's face registered shock. She took a pace back.

Sensing the advantage Sam took a step towards her. "Possibly," he ventured, "we're looking for the same thing that's responsible?"

Failing to mask her roiling emotions, Lyra looked simultaneously beaten and ready to attack.

"What's all this then?" Jim's brogue rang out as he came down the path. "I could feel the tension all the way to my wood shed."


	5. It's Been Awhile

**Staind – **"It's Been Awhile" (acoustic version)

_It's been awhile since I could hold my head up high_

_It's been awhile since I first saw you_

_It's been awhile since I could stand on my own two feet again_

_It's been awhile since I could call you_

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all may seem_

_The consequences that I've rendered_

_I stretched myself beyond my means_

_It's been awhile since I can say that I wasn't addicted_

_It's been awhile since I can say that I love myself as well as…_

_It's been awhile since I've gone and fucked things up, just like I always do_

_It's been awhile but all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you_

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all may seem_

_The consequences that I've rendered_

_Have gone and fucked things up again and again_

_Why must I feel this way?_

_Just make it go away_

_Just one more peaceful day_

_It's been awhile since I could look at myself straight_

_It's been awhile since I said I'm sorry_

_It's been awhile since I've seen the way the candles light your face_

_It's been awhile but I can still remember just the way you taste _

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all may seem to be, I know it's me_

_I cannot blame this on my father_

_He did the best he could for me_

_It's been awhile since I could hold my head up high_

_It's been awhile since I said I'm sorry…_

**Chapter 5**

The cabin was rustic but homey. The interior was cozy: hardwood floors gleamed, big stone fireplace, and a spacious open kitchen with an island leading to the dining room. It was only on closer inspection a person would notice the oddities scattered about.

An antique pine sideboard had a vase of flowers on it next to a brass pentacle. It almost looked like a trivet for supporting hot dishes on the dining room table but was most definitely a pagan altar paten.

A stack of firewood sat on the stone hearth of the fireplace, next to a black cast iron three-legged cauldron. Hanging on one wall was a hand-sewn quilt adorned with various celtic symbols, the Charmed Triquetra being the central icon on the coverlet.

"If Martha Stewart was Wiccan," murmured Dean taking the details in.

"What?" asked Sam.

"Would ya like a beer, lads?" Jim called from the kitchen.

"Sure," replied Dean. Shrugging at Sam. "What the hell."

oo00oo

They'd moved outside after dusk, once the mosquitoes had disappated. Dean helped Jim build the bonfire. It was shaping up to be a big fire.

"Will there be a ceremony tonight?" asked Sam.

Jim bent to light the kindling. "No lad," he replied. "Just a gathering of friends." Giving Sam a wink as he stood he assessed the fire's potential.

"Dean, would ya mind chopping some more of that wood over there?" Pointing to some logs stacked against the shed.

"Sure," Dean grabbed the hatchet and headed to the chopping block.

Turning back to Sam. "Can ya sing, lad?"

"Uh, no."

"Shame is that." Jim looked to the long gravel drive as a set of headlights bounced through the forest towards them.

oo00oo

Dean sat in the lawn chair watching the fire and listening to some of his favourite tunes played acoustically while sipping on a cold can of beer. Doesn't get much better than this, he thought.

Lyra had eventually emerged from the cabin, acoustic guitar in hand and settled into a chair across the fire from Dean. Jim and another older guy Dean recognized from the heavy metal band at the bar also played. Three guitarists in all sat facing each other across the fire with various people sitting in the circle between them.

They'd played Days of the New "Touch, Peel and Stand". One of the guys had sung Puddle of Mudd's "Drift and Die" with a voice that sounded like it had been scraped over broken glass, doused in straight whiskey and then coated in honey. A great rendition. Lyra's guitar playing was awesome. But he hadn't heard her sing yet.

A couple had arrived in a pickup truck earlier. A guy with a long white ponytail had driven in on an old Triumph motorcycle complaining that the driveway had nearly broken his suspension.

Dean could have sworn two more people materialized from the general direction of the nearby lake though he hadn't heard a boat pull up. He wondered if they were guests of Jim's staying in the guestrooms over the boathouse. All had English or Scottish accents. Was there some kind of Celtic Festival coming soon?

"Lyra, play my favourite," requested one of the women. Lyra's smile was warm and kind through the firelight. Dean slouched in his chair drinking his beer, hoping the bonfire's flames concealed his staring. Admiring the added beauty the firelight cast on her face, highlighting her long dark hair.

"Are you up for it, lass?" asked Jim quietly leaning towards her. She nodded in agreement and played the opening chords to Staind's "It's Been Awhile".

Her voice was soft but clear, confident but tender. She was able to infuse the lyrics with toughness and at the same time fragility that was evident in the words. Real pain was in her voice at the chorus. It made Dean's heart ache to hear it. Her voice barely a whisper on the word 'addicted' then sounding like it was raked over coals delivering the line 'all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you'.

When she'd finished, Lyra acknowledged the praise from the group and rose to return to the cabin. Looking to Dean, Jim asked, "Will ya fetch us more beers, lad?"

Dean walked across the lawn and up the steps into the screened-in porch to the side of the cabin where the beer fridge was. There was a small window on the porch through which he heard a long sigh from inside the cabin. Distinctly feminine, he heard her breath catch followed by quiet weeping.

Unsure whether to intrude or leave her alone Dean shut the fridge door quietly and entered the cabin through the side door. Lyra ran straight into him as she quickly exited the bedroom. Instinctively Dean grasped her by the arms, tears trailing down her cheeks she looked him in the eye.

So much pain, thought Dean. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

A soft bitter laugh, "For what?" she asked.

Dean didn't know. Shaking his head, his eyes filled with concern he pulled her to him. His arms were strong around her, he held her tight to his chest. She could feel the smooth curve of his muscular chest, the plane of his flat stomach through his t-shirt. Her hands ran up his back grasping the hard muscles of his shoulder blades. He smelled fantastic. Shutting her eyes, she rested her cheek against his soft cotton t-shirt, her tears flowed hot.

He held her close until her sobs subsided. Gently caressing the back of her neck with his hand beneath her silky hair, his other arm was wrapped around her slender waist.

Straightening up, Lyra's face was so close he could feel her soft breath on his jaw. Dean bent to gently kiss her face wet with tears. Her silken skin was salty and hot. Trying to comfort her, he feathered kisses across her cheek. Feeling his gentle breath pause over her temple, Lyra rose on tiptoe to reach his lips. Capturing his supple mouth with hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Pressed fully against her, she could feel him hardening. He was big. Letting her head fall back in delirious anticipation, Dean took advantage of her exposed throat spreading kisses down it. Her back arched, he could see the firm points of her nipples through her shirt. Gently cupping a breast through the light fabric he lightly grazed a thumb over the aroused tip eliciting a gasp from her.

Immediately wanting to evoke more of the same sounds from her he backed her into the bedroom. Pressing her against the wall and spreading her legs with his own, Dean pushed his hips against hers. This time she moaned as he pressed his full length against her.

Blood pounded in his ears but he became aware of a strange low-pitched drone in the room. Lyra broke their kiss gasping, "We shouldn't be in here."

An odd blue glow was reflected in the mirror on the wall next to them. Dean turned to see the luminescence coming from inside a large case on the bedroom floor.

"What _is _that?" he asked.

"It's nothing. Let's go."

The screen door of the cabin slammed shut loudly. "Dean?" they heard Sam shout.

* * *

**I love reviews!** Drop me a line if you likey : ) 


	6. An Evening Encounter

Just a reminder: This story is T-rated : )

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Dean lay awake staring at the ugly motel room ceiling. Sam's soft snoring emanated from the bed next to him. How odd, thought Dean, Sam sleeping and me with insomnia. The bickering must have tired him out.

They'd argued all the way back to town from the Macleod's cabin. Dean recalled Sam's accusations.

"They're a coven," Sam had insisted.

"Who?" Dean had asked fuming in the Impala's passenger seat. Having had a few beers he'd thought it smart to let Sam drive. Besides Sam had practically dragged him out of the cabin and thrown him in the car.

"All those Brits!"

"They were just hanging out at a bonfire, Sam. I didn't see any ceremonial daggers or hear a summoning of the Goddess."

"There's a strong bond between them all. I could sense it. They're connected in some way and have been for a very long time."

"So what? They're old friends and bandmates."

"What were you doing with Lyra in the cabin?"

"How is that your business, dude?"

"You're my brother, Dean. It's my business if you're getting mixed up with a black witch."

"That _was not_ black magic at the waterfall today."

"Yeah, well what was it at the graveyard next to the power plant last night? What's with all the natural phenomena happening around here lately? She's messing with some powerful dark forces and leading you around by your…"

"Shut up, Sam." Dean slouched angrily in his seat glaring out the window at the passing darkness. "Just shut the fuck up."

They'd driven the rest of the way to the motel in irate silence. He hated fighting with Sam but what he hated more was that Sam might be right. Lyra wasn't a black witch. Yes, she was definitely mixed up in some dark business. Apparently, she was from a long line of pagans. Yeah, there was something weird and powerful glowing inside a case in her father's cabin.

But she had a voice like a roadhouse angel and she was so damned beautiful. She was clearly torn up about her sister. Her father had been vague about their Wiccan practise and they hadn't had the nerve to ask about his missing daughter, he'd been so hospitable to them. Lyra needed Dean. He knew that without a doubt.

Pressing his palms to his closed eyes, Dean lay in bed trying to clear his head. It was no use. Silently he rose and dressed.

Grabbing his cell phone on the way out, he shut the door quietly. His phone vibrated once, he had a text message. Climbing into the Impala he looked at the phone's display. It was from Lyra. _Can't stop thinking about you. _The text was from 4 minutes ago.

_Me too._ Dean wrote back.

An immediate reply: _Meet me in the cemetary._

oo00oo

The heels of her boots clicked along the paved path, the sound reverberating off nearby tombs. She walked beneath the canopy of an enormous elm tree its branches stretching upward toward the starlit sky. The cemetary was quiet except for the nightime chirrup of a thousand crickets.

Dean stood silently beneath the massive stone angel watching her walk towards him. She'd changed out of her jeans. Her long black coat swished back behind her revealing a short black skirt and the full extent of her lengthy legs. The tops of her creamy white breasts pressed up out of the white eyelet corset, a black velvet choker encircled her elegant neck.

His green eyes intent on her, she stopped just in front of him. A hint of perfume crept upwards reminding him of an exotic night flower. Her hair was up, pinned loosely with whisps falling down around her long, white neck. The night breeze played with them. Dean reached out to brush them from her neck. She did not move away from his touch.

Gently he pulled her to him never breaking his gaze from hers. Feeling her soft breath on his lips, her clear blue eyes grew heavy lidded with desire. Instinctively licking her lips, in doing so the tip of her pink tongue grazed his upper lip. Sparks showered through his mind as he claimed her mouth with his.

She was compliant, opening her mouth fully to him. Dean shuddered involuntarily as their tongues collided pulling her tighter to him. Her hands travelled down his t-shirt tracing the bumps of his abs until her fingertips reached the top of his jeans. Pressing her palm against the front of his jeans she could feel his hard thickness. Apprehension and excitement made her back arc. Pressing herself hard against him, her head fell back as Dean trailed kisses along her throat. Giving herself fully over to him, he kissed her softly at her most vulnerable spot, the little hollow at the base of her throat while his hands ran beneath her coat reaching under her short skirt, grasping her lace-covered buttocks. His fingers dug into her flesh as he pulled her against him roughly, pressing himself against her he was rewarded with a soft moan in his ear. The sound exquisite; he repimanded himself to take it slow or it would be over as soon as it began.

Grasping her hips he turned and placed her on the tomb. Her back rested nicely against the curve of the angel's wing. As the wing turned outward at the bottom it made her hips tilt forward, Dean standing on the base of the tomb stepped between her long legs. He could feel her hot, moistness even through the denim of his jeans. Kissing her deeply his fingers nimbly found the tiny hooks on the front of her corset.

Drawing back he admired her full white mounds tipped with delicate pink. He bent to capture one with his mouth eliciting a gasp from Lyra. Grasping the fly of his jeans she undid them, sliding her hand into the top of his Jockeys. She felt him groan against her breast as she took hold of him gripping his width and stroking him slowly.

Pulling out of her grasp he spread kisses down her silky stomach. He felt the cool night air on his hardness and hoped it would help keep him under control. Kneeling before her he pulled the black lace panties from her, spreading her velvety thighs wide. Gasping for air, she felt his warm lips and inquisitive tongue on her. Her head fell back against the angel's wing, as her breathing became ragged. She could see the stars overhead blinking through the leaves of the tree as they swayed in the nightime breeze. Closing her eyes, sparks shot across her lids. Her mind ignited with the desire to feel Dean pressed within her. She could hear herself moaning his name. His devotion to her was relentless. He would not resign until she found release. Crying out, her hips spasmed as her mind exploded, all sensibility falling away.

Dean stood looking down at her; dark hair cascaded against the white stone of the angel's wing. Her eyes darkened and unfocussed in her delirium, lips parted and redder than usual. She looked breathtaking. Dean stepped between her legs spreading them wider with his. Slowly he slid into her as she gasped his name against his lips. Kissing her deeply he gently pushed himself into her fully. They were one. He felt enveloped in molten nectar. Her heat was incredible. All conscious thought left Lyra, she was only aware of Dean within her.

Holding her to him and whispering her name he began his slow strokes. She felt a coiling tension rising up her spine, she no longer knew if she was calling his name or just moaning incoherently. His strokes gained momentum, fingers digging into her buttocks. Her hips met his as the hot explosion rocketed up her spine shattering her mind into a thousand pieces. Muffling her scream by biting into his neck, her climax driving her hard against him. Dean knew only the gourgeous writhing creature beneath him as he lost all control and found his release within her depths. A strangled cry into her soft hair as he cradled her head with his hand shielding it from the hard stone of the angel. His knees felt weak as his mind flew skyward. He was only aware of their chests pressed together heaving with exhaustion gasping the cool night air. The leaves overhead rustled and the crickets continued their nightime symphony as Dean lay still against her, unwilling to draw apart just yet.


	7. Looking in the Mirror

**Chapter 7**

Lyra eased herself into the bath. Sighing she lay back letting the hot water cover her. She had done what she'd thought was needed. What was best for the objective. Her father had said it would increase her power threefold. It was hard to tell yet, she was so damned tired.

So if she'd done it just for the empowerment, why had she brought him back here afterwards? Back to her flat over the occult shop. And done it five more times? No wonder she was exhausted.

oo00oo

Dean was driving his car. As he approached the town limit sign his gas foot faltered, swerving off onto the shoulder of the road he hit the brakes.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam looked at his older brother.

Looking disconcerted Dean shook his head slowly. "I can't leave yet. I can't leave her."

"I love you, Dean." Sam's lips moved but it was Lyra's voice.

"What the fu…" Dean woke startled. A gentle breeze blew the bedroom curtains. It was daytime and he was alone in the bed. It still smelled of Lyra's perfume. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply. He couldn't get enough of her.

Sitting up in bed he swung his feet to the floor. He had no idea what time it was. He didn't care. The bedsprings creaked a little as he stood up. He heard her voice through the half open door.

"I'm in the bath," she called to him.

oo00oo

Lyra's laugh bounced off the tiles of the bathroom. The light-hearted sound made Dean smile.

"So then what happened?" she asked.

"Well, we weren't sure what we'd done. We were afraid we might have fried the poor guy's whole herd."

Dean was telling the story while lying in the bath. Lyra lay in front of him reclined against his chest listening.

She gasped, "You didn't! Did you?"

"No, we didn't. But nothing ever bothered his farm again."

"So," Lyra began slowly. "You and Sam just travel around the country helping people out with their… paranormal problems?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

"You make a living from this?"

It was Dean's turn to laugh. "Not really."

"So it's more of a hobby then?"

"Mmmm," Dean paused not sure how much more he should reveal. He'd probably told her too much already. Way more than he'd ever told any other girl.

Sensing he didn't want to be pushed Lyra changed the subject. "Well, it's nice that you get to work with your brother. Kind of a family business thing, hm?"

"Yeah." Dean's tone changed. He stared darkly at the bathroom ceiling.

Lyra shifted between his legs, bathwater lapping against the sides of the tub as she turned to face him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," trying to lighten his tone.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"You're not." Kissing her forehead he asked, "What about your family business?"

A shadow passed over Lyra's face, "My family business?"

"The witchcraft shop."

"Oh," looking relieved Lyra continued. "That's really just a hobby. Something Dad and I do to keep busy."

"You seem pretty busy." Dean didn't want to wreck the moment with another fight about her dark dealings with Mitch. Silence hung awkwardly in the bathroom for a second. Had he opened that can of worms? Why shouldn't he?

"I guess," she began, trying to find some common ground. "We both have pretty strange families."

Appreciating the truce they'd struck he smiled, curling a long whisp of her hair around his finger. "The Addams and the Munsters have nothing on us."

"You wanna see something cool?" Lyra asked.

"Sure."

Smiling she rose from the bath and handed Dean a towel.

"Dry off," she instructed him. "It's in the living room."

oo00oo

"How old is this thing?" Dean asked picking up the scrying mirror to inspect it closer.

"Old," replied Lyra.

"But how old?" Dean turned the mirror over to examine the back.

"I'm not sure but it's been in my family for centuries."

"What's this language written on the back?"

Lyra leaned her head towards Dean's. He could smell her shampoo, her hair still damp from the bath. Frowning slightly she ventured, "Egyptian maybe?"

"Holy crap." Dean set the mirror back on the table carefully. "So can you use it?"

"Oh yes. You have to look at it from an angle, not straight on. Are you okay from there?"

Dean adjusted his chair slightly. "Okay," he replied.

"Now just kind of let your mind relax and focus on the mirror. Don't look _at_ it. But rather, try to look _through_ it. Like you're looking across a room to the back wall."

"Uh huh," cocking a sceptical eyebrow.

"Just shut up and concentrate, Dean."

He liked the way she said his name. She barely had any Scottish accent left after the years spent living in the States but a few words had a charming inflection to them.

While Dean was focussed on the scrying mirror, Lyra watched his face to make sure he was concentrating. Green eyes narrowed as he at least pretended to make an effort. His hair was disheveled but looked good. Bedhead definitely suited him. Unshaven for at least a day, light stubble covered the cleft in his handsome chin. His lips looked even pinker with the dark contrast of his stubble. A smile crept across his gourgeous mouth.

"Can this thing tell me if the Chiefs will win a Superbowl in my lifetime?"

She couldn't keep her hands off him any longer. Pushing his chair back from the table she stradled his lap. Clasping his face in her hands she kissed him hard. He responded by undoing the front closure of her robe and running his warm hands up her bare back. She loved the way he touched her. Breaking their kiss, she was a little breathless.

"Hey," he was panting slightly too. "This is exactly what I saw in the mirror."

"Shut up and kiss me, Dean."

oo00oo

Gasping for air Lyra drifted back to consciousness. Her mind reeling from her climax, her heart pounding. Placing a soft kiss on her breast, Dean rolled off her trying to regain his own breathing.

"Wow," was all he could manage.

They were back in her bed. They'd made their way back from the living room romp via a quickie up against the kitchen counter. Finally enjoying a long, slow tryst amidst her down duvet.

Dean noticed the light through the window growing golden. Lyra's phone rang in the living room.

"I should get that," stumbling from the bed she threw a short Japanese silk robe around herself.

Feeling suddenly guilty, Dean had the urge to call Sam. God knows what he must be thinking. Actually, Dean reflected, you didn't have to be a psychic wonder to guess where he was. But still he should probably get going.

"Okay, I get it." Hearing the irritation in Lyra's voice Dean wondered if it was Mitch on the phone as he pulled his jeans on.

"I'll be there. See you tonight." Lyra hung up the phone.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head Dean walked into the living room. Tension hung in the air.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, fine. You going?"

"Yeah, I should probably catch up with Sam."

"Okay."

"Okay, then."

Tempted to ask about her evening's plans, Dean resisted. Lightly grasping her hand he looked her in the eye.

"Take care tonight," he said simply.

"I will. Thanks," she replied managing a small smile.


	8. Summoning

**Chapter 8**

Sam and Dean crept quietly down the slope through the darkness, taking cover behind a large family tombstone. From here they could see the coven creating its ritual circle. Eight people in long, dark cloaks walking in a circle holding candles. Except Mitch, he carried a sword.

"The high priest," whispered Sam.

Dean saw Lyra. Her cloak blew back in the night breeze rewarding him with a view of her stunning legs. Black mini skirt and fishnet tights, black leather boots to her knees. She carried an athame, a Wiccan ritual dagger.

"Lyra's the priestess." Dean whispered back.

"They're casting the circle," Sam said watching the group stop walking and face each other while Mitch walked behind them tracing the tip of the sword lightly along the ground.

Mitch joined Lyra in the centre of the circle. Two others stepped towards them as Lyra pointed her athame skyward towards the treetops and spoke in a clear voice:

_Oh spirit guardian of the North,  
Ancient one of the earth,  
I call thee to come forth and charge this circle,  
with the power of three and rock._

The other three called to their respective corners: East, West and South. Everyone in the circle turning to face the direction called upon.

Lyra spoke again and Dean snuck a look from behind the stone monument. A cool northerly breeze rustled the leaves overhead, blowing her dark hair back exposing her beautiful neck. Her skin was like alibastair: smooth and white. He remembered what it had tasted like.

Lyra's voice rang out again northward:

_  
Charge this circle with your power, Old Ones, for as above, so below._

oo00oo

Sam and Dean crouched silently for half an hour watching the Wiccan ceremony. So far it had been pretty standard fare. Calling the Corners, Drawing down the Moon, Invoking the Goddess.

Then came the interesting part: Invoking the God. Normal, peaceful Wiccan ritual usually involved calling upon the 'Horned God, Guardian of all things wild and free'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Dean had heard several variations but they were all similar.

Tonight, in this particular cemetary this particular coven had called on Abrasax the Insatiable. Very interesting. A lesser demon to be sure, as demon hierarchy goes, but certainly a formidable harbinger of evil. He hadn't shown up yet but with the circle still intact and everyone chanting his name, the invitation was still out there.

"Dean," whispered Sam. "Lyra doesn't look so good."

Dean carefully peeked out from behind the headstone. She'd stopped chanting with the rest of the coven and was actually no longer standing. She knelt in the grass, eyes closed. He could see the sheen of sweat on her brow from here and she seemed to be breathing irregularly.

Shaking his head at Sam he was at a loss to explain her physical deterioration. In the distance, they heard the approaching thunder.

Sam ducked his head as a raven flew in to land on the headstone they were hiding behind. Dean felt the rush of air as the great bird flapped its wings coming to a stop. It squawked loudly.

"Shit!" whispered Sam.

Dean pulled a switchblade from his pocket and tried poking at the raven's tough feet with it. Trying to get it to fly off to another perch. Maybe with all the Abrasax-chanting no one would notice.

The raven was now hopping up and down atop the tombstone flapping its wings.

Crouched beneath it, Dean looked up at the ebony bird as it cocked its head. One great gold eye looked down at him. "Fuck off!" Dean said quietly but urgently.

The bird cried out louder than ever.

oo00oo

Lyra was vaguely aware of the scuffle. She'd heard the raucous raven and felt Mitch and Vince break the circle to go investigate. She thought there had been a fight. Mitch was big enough to overpower Sam threatening to run him through with his sword. This in turn coerced Dean into submission and he'd turned over his handgun.

Both brothers were brought back to the circle and made to kneel before the bonfire with their hands bound behind their backs.

She needed to find the ley line and fast if she was going to re-energize and help them out of this. She should have known he'd follow her tonight.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" Mitch was telling the coven. "We've summoned all the secondary demons we can using the abilities available to us."

He cast a look down at Lyra, still kneeling with her head bowed on her heaving chest, eyes closed.

"If we're going to attain more power, we need more powerful contacts!" Mitch was pacing around the circle like a mad dog now. "And those kind of contacts aren't going to show unless we take our devotion to the next level."

Mitch stopped behind Sam and Dean, his sword reflecting the firelight. "Human sacrifice."

"I _knew_ you were going to say that," said Dean rolling his eyes.

"Dean, shut up," advised Sam.

Where was the fucking ley line? Lyra thought wildly. She specifically picked this spot in the cemetary because of its proximity. Focus. Come on. She heard the thunder crack overhead and felt the earth rise to meet it. The river was rising. She knew it. The line ran alongside the riverbank, she invoked it. Feeling its power course through her she raised her head giving Dean a wink.

Rising in one fluid motion, Lyra thrust her hand out towards Mitch's raised sword.

"What the fuck, Lyra?" was all anyone heard Mitch say before the deafening crash. Lightning hit a nearby oak, sending baseball bat-sized splinters flying overhead.

People were thrown to the ground by the force of the bolt. Dean sprang to his feet, throwing both bound fists crashing into Mitch's jaw. Mitch, already staggering from the impact of the lightning, fell from the blow.

Grasping her athame, Lyra cut Sam and Dean's bonds quickly. Sam grabbed Mitch's fallen sword while Dean recovered his gun. The three of them started to run.

oo00oo

"This way!" Dean was leading them towards the small walking bridge spanning the river.

"No!" Lyra stopped running, grasping both men's arms to halt them as well.

"There's a bridge right there." Dean insisted.

"I know but the river's rising. Fast. It's going to be swept away."

"Going to be!" Dean looked at her like she was crazy. She couldn't blame him really.

"There's an exit to the road over here." Lyra pointed in the other direction.

Exchanging quick glances, the brothers decided to trust her.

oo00oo

Winded from running, the three made it to the east entrance of the cemetary. As they passed through the stone and iron gates they slowed to a walk. Outside, the road was quiet and dark. The thunderstorm seemed to have dissipated as quickly as it had begun.

"I forget where we parked." Dean joked breathlessly.

Lyra didn't laugh. She was looking down the road at something. Her eyes widened.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

Lyra responded by raising her hand and intoning something in Latin. Dean couldn't catch all the words but it sounded protective. What the hell was on the road that scared her so much? She'd barely flinched when the lightning had blasted the tree in the cemetary to bits.

Dean and Sam looked down the road. The river had flooded its banks, just as Lyra had predicted but that wasn't the really creepy part. Floating just above the raging water was a black mist. It seemed to be taking shape and moving towards them.

Taking Mitch's sword from Sam, Lyra fell to her knees pressing her head to the hilt rapidly invoking a protection spell. Casting an arc with the sword ahead of the three of them, Dean thought he saw the air wavering in the moonlight. Like one of those optical illusions you see over the blacktop on a really hot day. As though a protective barrier rose from the road between themselves and the black mist.

The mist was still creeping closer and taking form. A head was almost recognizable atop a tall body. Horns seemed to sprout from the head and what the fuck? Were those cloven feet?

The vaporous creature was about ten feet away when it stopped and spoke. Dean looked at Sam who was straining to understand the language. It was both unintelligible but vaguely familiar. They'd heard it before. Maybe on a hunt with Dad?

Lyra was still invoking protection but her voice sounded less and less confidant. Her knuckles white around the hilt of the sword. She looked and sounded scared. Shit, Dean wished he had his 12 gauge. He raised his handgun taking aim at the demon.

A blinding white light lit up the road. It came from behind them. Another lightning bolt? No, there was no explosion of sound. A booming voice incanting something, not Latin, even older. One of the biblical languages, maybe?

Suddenly all was dark again.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was small in the vastness of the night.

"Right here, bro."

"Lyra's gone."


	9. Never Let Me Go

**Chapter 9**

"Well now we've seen it with our own eyes." Sam stated, "She's helping summon demons."

Kicking a rock down the pavement Dean walked moodily beside his brother. They were making their way down the road back to where they'd left the Impala.

"You saw it, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "I saw it."

"Abrasax the Insatiable. Who the hell is that?"

"A minion demon but a powerful one."

"Look at you," Sam looked impressed. "All up on your demon-lore."

"I hung out with Dad a long time before he split, Sam." No longer able to conceal the bitterness in his voice, Dean stared darkly at the road ahead of them.

"Dean," Sam started.

"Don't Sammy." Dean interrupted. "I know what you're going to say but I think if Lyra is summoning demons, she has a good reason for it."

"What?" Sam laughed in disbelief. "You're not serious, Dean."

Stopping in his tracks, Dean turned to face his brother. "I'm very serious. I've spent time with her."

"You fucked her."

Clenching his fists Dean summoned all his willpower not to punch his younger brother in the face.

"You've met her father. Seen their home. These are not _evil_ people." Dean pursued his point. "I don't know why they are doing these things. I don't know what's up with the other British coven. But Lyra and Jim are not amateurs. They're not _dabbling_ with dark forces. They have a deliberate plan, I just don't know what it is yet."

"Does the plan include seducing you?"

"That's it, Sam." Bringing his arm up defensively Sam blocked his brother's punch. Dean made another swing as a truck's headlights came around the bend in the road just ahead of them.

Distracted by the approaching vehicle, Sam and Dean stopped fighting and moved to the shoulder of the road quickly. The SUV screeched to a halt in front of them, driver's side window opening.

"Lads!" Jim Macleod yelled to them. "I need yer help."

oo00oo

"She's burning up!" Dean lifted Lyra's unconscious body from the passenger seat.

Jim helped Dean carry her down the bankside. "We need to get her in the stream."

Freeing Lyra of her long cloak, Jim grasped her beneath both arms while Dean lifted her legs. Gently they lowered her into the creek. Only a foot deep, Jim let her body recline immersing all but her head in the cold water. Wetting his hand he clasped it to her brow. Her breathing was ragged, face and neck flushed.

"What's wrong with her?" asked Sam.

"Contact with a demon is not without a high price." Jim looked to both brothers. "You would know that of course."

"What do you know about us?" Sam demanded.

"I know enough, laddy." Jim's tone softened. The color in Lyra's face was returning to normal. "I know you've suffered a great loss at the hands of evil. _You_ know that we have as well."

Sam couldn't help nodding in agreement. Even though he didn't trust their dabbling with dark magic, Sam knew Dean was right. The Macleods had a good reason for doing so.

"I believe we can help each other," Jim appealed looking at Dean who nodded in response.

"Now," Jim continued. "Let's get her back to the cabin."

oo00oo

"You mean to tell me, Dean, that you can impede evil spirits with a 12 gauge firing rock salt?" Jim asked settled next to the fire with a glass of scotch.

Dean and Sam sat facing him in armchairs taking in the fire's warmth and the comfort of his alcohol.

Lyra slept soundly on the sofa nearby. Riley, the wolfhound, stretched protectively on the floor in front of her.

"Yeah," Dean explained. "Simple but effective."

"Well," Jim conceded. "All the best magic is."

"Now," Jim continued. "You're not mages though, are ya?"

"No sir," said Dean shaking his head. "We're…." Trailing off, Dean looked to his brother. "What are we?"

"We help people fight dark forces." Sam eyed Jim confrontationally. "Evil forces."

"You're good lads." Jim nodded in comprehension. "I knew that."

"Why is Lyra summoning demons?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed. Why was he being such a dickhead again?

Jim didn't reply immediately. Taking a deep drink of scotch he began delicately. "Sam you've lost someone you love to a demon. I sense that."

Sam responded with stoney silence. "Perhaps," Jim continued. "You've heard that I had another daughter?"

"We had heard that," Dean replied.

"Katie, Lyra's sister. She was taken from us."

"Taken?" Dean asked.

"She'd been weakened… by an addiction. It took Lyra and I four months to find her. She was living on heroine and not much else in New York City. We convinced her to come to Salem to a good rehab clinic but…" Jim's voice faltered.

Dean rose taking the scotch bottle from the side table to refill Jim's glass while he composed himself.

"Thanks, lad." Taking a deep breath Jim continued, "Katie was at the clinic when something strange happened. The doctor called to say she'd disappeared. Escaped presumably. But when Lyra and I came to examine her room we sensed a great evil had been there. There were scorch marks up the walls and blood on the floor."

"The authorities were called and a missing persons report filed but of course, the police found nothing."

"Of course," Dean replied.

"With the help of some friends," Jim continued. "The folks you met at the bonfire the other night. We determined that Katie had been taken by a demon, a particularly nasty one, even by demon standards. He's using our Wiccan bloodline to further empower himself, holding her in limbo until his use for her is exhausted. We have to kill him to release her. So she may find everlasting peace."

Dean swallowed hard. "You're going to kill him?"

"Yes. Lyra's been using Mitch's coven to lure him to us. Pretending to belong to an amateur coven that's dangerously trifling with his minions. Lyra has summoned and dispatched, with my help, five lesser demons so far. We're getting close to him, I can tell. When we do finally summon him, the real coven, _our_ ancient Celtic coven will gather to destroy him."

Dean and Sam sat in stunned silence.

"We could use any help we can get, lads. Do you have any experience in killing demons?"

"Uh," Dean started. "Our dad's trying…"

"Dean, don't." Sam warned.

"No," Dean concluded. "We've never killed a demon."

oo00oo

The dream was always the same. Dean was four and asleep in his bed. He was awakened by his father's shouting and smelled burning. Running to his brother's room, Dean was handed little Sammy by his father telling him to take his baby brother outside as fast as possible.

Dean had run, clutching Sam, as fast as he could. But first he'd looked up. Something had drawn his eyes upward. How did his mom get up there? Blonde hair splayed against the ceiling, bloody gash across her abdomen, flames emanating outward from her body.

Dean woke sweating. He couldn't breathe. Leaping from bed he ran down the hall and out the side door of the cabin. Wearing only his jeans, he felt the cool dew from the grass on his bare feet. The sun was just rising on the lake. His breathing began to calm as he looked out at the placid water lit pink and gold by the sunrise. He felt a gentle touch on the bare skin of his back. Turning suddenly he saw Lyra's beautiful face. Lyra, she was safe.

Clutching her to him tightly, entwining his hands in her soft hair. She whispered against his neck.

"Never let me go," she said.


	10. International Arrivals

**Chapter 10**

"Dad, I think we're going to need Mom's help." Lyra spoke as she turned the steaks on the barbeque.

"Och no, lass. We dinna need her help."

Lyra smiled at hearing her father's Highland accent grow stronger. As it always did when he got upset. She knew it would be a sensitive topic but she had to voice it.

"But no one is better at protective spells and you have to admit, she's a powerful witch."

"I know but we don't exactly work well together anymore do we?" Jim argued. "I don't think it would help."

"I think she'd like to help. Or at least be asked. This could be closure for her too." Lyra looked directly at her father, blue eyes imploring.

"Damn," he muttered. She had him. She knew it.

"I'll call her right now, okay? It's 11pm in Rome."

With a deep sigh, he aquiesced, taking the barbeque fork from his only remaining daughter. Kissing him quickly on the cheek she grabbed the cordless phone from the table.

oo00oo

"You keep shifting around, Sam." Dean sat next to his brother at the end of the dock looking out over the lake. "One minute you suspect them of invoking evil and the next you think that we're all after the same demon that killed our loved ones."

"I know," Sam sighed skipping a flat stone out onto the lake's surface. "I know that they're not evil. I just… I'm afraid of what they're capable of. They _are_ summoning demons."

"They've also been able to subjugate and destroy them," Dean pointed out. "That takes some serious skill, pal."

"So far! So far, they've been able to destroy what they've summoned. Now they're after the great white. How long do you think their luck will hold?"

"I don't think it's got anything to do with luck."

Sam looked at Dean. "What do you think it's got to do with?"

"I think a very long history of Celtic magic makes them able to do this thing."

"Come on," Sam laughed sceptically.

"I think they are strong, Sam. Stronger than they let on to you and me."

"You have a lot of faith."

Laughing Dean replied, "Look at me. With the faith already?"

"Do you love her?"

Dean grew immediately quiet, his eyes downcast staring at the lake's surface trying to hide any emotion from his brother.

"I don't know, Sam."

"Well, how do you feel when you're around her? More importantly, how do you feel when you're _not_ around her?"

"I feel…" Dean couldn't go there. He wasn't capable of talking about his feelings. "She's certainly cast a spell on me."

"You feel confused but at the same time complete conviction? You feel high and low? You can't eat, you can't sleep?"

"D. All of the above."

"That's no spell, Dean."

oo00oo

"My mother's coming from Italy tomorrow," Lyra announced as she entered the dining room.

"Fabulous," Jim said sarcastically as he put a steak on each person's plate.

Smirking as she sat down to the table, passing the potatoes to Dean. "Try to be welcoming, Dad."

"Will do, love." Attempting a sincere smile at his daughter, Jim stuffed a napkin into the neck of his shirt and began carving his steak.

"This is really good," said Dean mouth half full of steak.

"Thank you. It was a team effort," said Jim crediting Lyra for part of the meal. Until she'd had to phone that bitch in Italy, he thought.

"She's looking forward to meeting you both," Lyra said to Dean and Sam. "Especially you, Sam."

"Why Sam?" Dean asked, not quite hiding the injury in his voice.

"She's seen Sam."

"Your mother lives in Italy?" Sam asked.

"She's seen you in a vision. She sensed your abilities and thinks you and she can work together in this. She's looking forward to training you."

"Training me?"

"Yes, encouraging your psychic abilities."

"Oh," was all Sam could manage.

"She'll try to seduce you, lad." Jim warned.

"Dad! Please!"

Dean merely laughed. He'd thought his family had some dysfunctional Sunday night dinners.

"That's a terrible thing to say," Lyra gave her father a reprimanding look. "Let's all try to get along, alright? We've got a job to do."

With that they all fell to eating. They'd need their strength in the task that lay ahead.

oo00oo

Lyra stood at the International Arrivals gate of Logan Airport surprised at how nervous she felt. She was waiting for her own mother, she told herself, why was she nervous? Remembering the last time she'd seen her mother, it had been almost a year ago. Before she and Dad had taken up looking for Katie.

She'd visited her mother in Rome. It had been a good visit. Lyra loved Rome and had wandered its streets for days. She'd taken day trips by train to places like Pompeii to see the ghostly excavations of the ash-buried city. Her mother had even taken a few days off so they could take the ferry out to Capri and make a proper vacation of it. It had been nice.

But then her mother had immersed herself in her work again. Barely sparing time for meals in the evenings with Lyra sampling some of Rome's fabulous restaurants. More importantly, Lyra had hoped her mother would have spent more time training her. Teaching her some of the skills that would have made hunting this damn demon easier. Now in hindsight, she wished she had spent more time there. Maybe taken her up on her offer to work along side her?

Instead Lyra had returned to the States to help her father look for Katie. By then they knew she was in serious trouble and an intervention was required.

A tall, stunning brunette strode through the Arrivals gate pulling a small suitcase on wheels. Dressed impeccably with a scarf tied around her head pulling her long hair back from her face she looked like a mature model straight out of a 70s European fashion magazine.

Her ample mouth curved upwards in a loving smile as she spotted her daughter. Arms spread wide, Lyra stepped into her mother's embrace. An embrace like no other, Lyra inhaled her mother's scent, felt her soft wavy hair against her face, pressed against her warm body.

After several long moments, other travellers passing them by, they pulled apart.

"Hi, Mom." Lyra said simply.

"Hello darling," her mother's Spanish accent strong as ever. She placed a kiss on Lyra's forehead before grabbing her suitcase and following her daughter to the exit.

oo00oo

"That's the most insane plan I have ever heard," Lyra's mother stated after hearing Jim and Lyra explain their plot to capture and kill the demon.

"Well, I wouldna expect any confidence from you, Sophia." Jim shot back.

"Please Mom. Just hear us out. Why don't you think it will work?"

"A rag-tag band of mages? Destroying a powerful demon? You will be incinerated before you know what hit you," Sophia warned.

"Rag-tag! Who're you calling rag-tag woman?" Jim's voice was rising.

"Please," Lyra interjected. "Can we _not_ do this?"

"Our 'band of mages' as you call them," Jim continued, "has a pagan lineage stretching back to the Druids of Mona. Our coven can summon the most powerful demon out there!"

"Summon maybe," Sophia responded coolly. "And then what do you do with the creature once it's here? Simply cut off its head?"

Scoffing Sophia rose from the table, she'd heard enough.

"You have any better ideas?" Jim asked.

Sophia turned to contemplate her ex-husband, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"What do you think this monster will do once he's summoned? Kneel before you, neck outstretched for chopping?"

Jim's expression darkened. He hated it when she was right. Quite simply, he hated her.

"Have you got your thirteen?" Sophia asked.

"We do now. Yes."

"Who are they?"

"Well, myself and Lyra, my three cousins from Scotland, you know them." Sophia nodded as Jim continued, "George and Constance from Glastonbury, as well as the MacTavish's from Wales."

"I see," Sophia grabbed a wineglass pouring herself some Cab Sauvignon from the bottle on the kitchen counter. "That's only ten."

"Well now there's yourself of course and the Winchester lads."

Sipping the wine Sophia cocked an eyebrow inquisitively at Lyra. "Who are these Winchester lads?" her Spanish accent negotiating the name awkwardly.

Clearing her throat Lyra replied, "Their names are Sam and Dean. You mentioned seeing Sam, the psychic one, during your meditations."

"Yes, of course." Sophia recalled, "and Dean?"

"Well, they're kind of soldiers…no, more like mercenaries. Helping people, fighting evil spirits."

"They do this for money?"

"Well, no. Maybe mercenary is the wrong word." Lyra was grasping.

"_Vaqueros_," Sophia suggested.

"No, Mom. They're not cowboys."

"Winchester…" Sophia reflected on the name while swirling her red wine in its glass. "They sound like cowboys."

Exasperated, Lyra looked to her father. Jim having heard enough himself, rose from the table and wandered into the living room in search of his scotch bottle.

* * *

_Author's note:_ I picture Lyra's mother, Sophia, as being an older Penelope Cruz. Mid to late 40s, long dark brown hair, heavy Spanish accent. Very sexy and a bit aloof. Lyra gets her dark hair and blue eyes combo from the Scottish side of the family. 


	11. Human Sacrifice

**Chapter 11 **

"Sam, this is my mother Sophia." Lyra began the introductions.

"Pleased to meet you," Sam smiled shyly while shaking Sophia's hand.

"And this is Dean, Mom."

"Hello, Mrs. Macleod," Dean said respectfully shaking her hand as well.

"It's Santiago actually. I never changed it. You may call me Sophia."

"Okay Sophia," Dean replied eyeing Lyra as her mother turned her attention to Sam.

"It's okay," Lyra mouthed to Dean trying to calm him. He feared he'd made a major faux pas on their first meeting. Why was he so nervous? He'd met plenty of girls' mothers, they always loved him. It was his thing.

But Sophia was different, thought Dean. Firstly, she looked like a fucking Bond girl from the 70s. It solved the mystery of where Lyra got her looks from that's for sure. Secondly, she was tall, carried herself like a queen and spoke like one. Intimidating didn't even begin to describe this woman and he hadn't even seen her witchcraft abilities yet.

Dean felt a little over his head. Poor Sammy, he thought. Sophia had taken him by the arm and was escorting him outside to a couple of Adirondack chairs on the lawn.

"Does she want us to join them?" Dean asked.

"No, she'll want some private time with Sam. To get to know him," Lyra replied.

Dean's eyebrows raised as he recalled Jim's warning from the previous night. Reading his mind Lyra slapped Dean on the arm.

"Not get to know him _that_ way. She's going to test his powers and see if they can work together in some way on this."

"Oh," Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Sam could use some guidance with this whole psychic thing. I think it overwhelms him sometimes."

"Good," Lyra took Dean by the arm directing him towards the path to the forest.

"Where's your father this morning?" Dean asked.

"Sleeping. He was up all night with his coven. Trying to strengthen their power as a group, calling on the Goddess for assistance, fine-tuning their summoning and defense skills."

"And what did you do all night?"

"Thought about what you and I could do to fine-tune our skills." Lyra replied with a sly smile.

oo00oo

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my altar, for human sacrifice," replied Lyra smirking. Holding Dean's hand she led him through the forest.

"I suspected as much. Can I choose the way I die?"

"Of course. How does auto-erotic asphyxiation grab you?"

"Wow," replied Dean. "Rockstar death. I like it."

They entered a grove. Several large, old oaks grew in a semi-circle towering over the forest floor.

Lyra leaned against one of the ancient trees grasping Dean by the belt loop of his jeans pulling him to her. "You will need to pleasure me sufficiently first, however."

"Of course," Dean smiled as he bent to kiss her. His hands ran down her back as he felt her velvety tongue tease his. Gently nipping his full bottom lip she undid his jeans and reached in to grasp him. Gasping at her hold on him, he trailed kisses and gentle bites down one side of her neck while untying her haltertop. As her top fell down he lifted her up to perch against the great tree taking one of her breasts in his mouth.

His voraciousness left her breathless. Wrapping her long legs around his waist she pulled him to her. Her skirt rose up revealing no undergarments beneath. Smiling in appreciation, Dean spread kisses across her collarbone, gently nipping her shoulder. Pushing his jeans and underwear down she could feel his naked hardness pressed against her. She was moist and trembling with anticipation.

"God, it's like you're on fire," Dean murmured. He couldn't wait. Lyra moaned as he pushed himself into her. Pausing for a moment to gain his composure Dean looked on Lyra's lovely face, flushed with excitement. He loved to make her moan. Lived for it. He couldn't remember what it had been like before her.

She murmured something in Latin. "What?" Dean asked.

Eyes heavy-lidded with desire Lyra looked up into his face, kissing him slowly and deeply she felt him begin his long strokes. Breathlessly she replied, "We are as one. Complete."

"Complete," Dean repeated as their hips collided. He felt his climax nearing. Holding her in his arms pressing her to the tree, he felt his mind soar. He knew only her, her heat, breathlessly calling his name. Her climax came hard, suppressing a scream she bit into his shoulder, taking him deeper into her as he followed her into delirium.

His chest heaved against hers. She felt safe enclosed in his strong embrace but knowing that wouldn't be enough she silently intoned her prayers while they were still joined. Entwined beneath the oak's great-outstretched limbs, she asked the Goddess for protection of him, guardianship for their love. No matter what happened tomorrow night, she prayed, please protect Dean and Sam from harm. Please.

oo00oo

Dean and Lyra sat on the lawn watching Sophia instruct Sam. Sam would listen patiently to Sophia's instruction and then focus on the task she gave him.

"Nothing much seems to be happening," Dean observed.

"It takes a long time to master, even moderately control, these abilities. Poor Sam's on the crash course," Lyra replied.

Sophia had an athame in her hand, the slender knife was silver with a black leather hilt.

"Sam you must be prepared for anything," they heard Sophia's advice across the lawn. "To protect yourself from anything at anytime."

A slight flick of Sophia's hand and a flash of silver was all Dean saw. The knife came whipping end over end across the lawn directly at Lyra's head. Dean barely had time to react when Lyra brought her hand up swiftly stopping the knife in mid-air mere inches from her face.

"_Strigo_," Lyra said eyes focussed on the knife floating in the air. "_Abiectum_."

The knife fell to the lawn, blade sinking into the earth. Lyra hadn't even touched it.

"See? Like so." Sophia told Sam as she strode across the lawn to retrieve her athame. Lyra flicked her hand quickly sending the knife spinning towards her mother who caught it and wiped the blade clean with a white hankerchief.

"Holy shit," Dean murmured. Lyra smiled at him.

* * *

My apologies to anyone who knows proper Latin! 


	12. Sorceress Paramour

**Chapter 12**

_Sorceress paramour. _That's what Sophia had called him. He thought he could guess what it meant but he wanted to be sure. Dean grabbed the large leatherbound book entitled _Magical Rituals and Rites_ from the shelf. He was alone in Jim's library.

Lyra and her father were outside meeting with their Celtic coven. Sophia had resumed her training of Sam after she'd had a 'quiet word' with Dean. Meaning after she'd grilled him privately on his intentions towards her daughter. Clearly he didn't meet her high standards as a potential boyfriend. While Jim had been appreciative of their hunting skills, Sophia seemed to regard them as primitive bumpkins. Barely sophisticated enough to dispatch a phantom attacker. Whatever, Dean thought dismissively.

But he hadn't liked her tone one bit when she'd finished by acknowledging he'd been a good Sorceress Paramour at least.

Flipping the pages of the old book, Dean found the definition finally:

_Alchemist paramour, Sorceress paramour: _A sexual servant able to further empower a witch or warlock's abilities, sometimes threefold depending on the strength of the attachment and the skills of the paramour. An enabling lover making possible increased skills in a magician through the act of lovemaking especially if the act is carried out within the boundaries of a henge, sacred grove or cemetary.

"Huh," was all Dean said aloud. It was like that was it? Slamming the book shut he placed it back on the shelf.

oo00oo

Dean had been acting strangely all evening. Quiet, withdrawn and restless. Clearly he didn't want to be here. Lyra had tried asking him about it only to be met with cool indifference. It was like he'd completely changed turning into a totally different person. Why? Lyra wondered. What had happened this afternoon?

Watching Sam concentrate on the sword lying in the grass of the lawn, Dean saw the weapon tremble slightly. Sam's eyes narrowed as he focussed, his hand outstretched towards the hilt.

"Use the force, Luke." Dean intoned.

Breaking into laughter, Sam lost his focus. Smiling as he turned to his brother. "This is crazy. Isn't it?"

"Crazy," interrupted Sophia looking crossly at Dean," is attempting to face a demon with no psychic defenses whatsoever."

"Yeah, well I'll leave that to you psychics," replied Dean.

Ignoring him, Sophia strode across the lawn and into the cabin.

"I'm leaving," Dean informed Sam.

"What? Right now?" Sam looked surprised.

"Yeah. All this telekinesis and coven-bonding is starting to weird me out."

"What? I thought you were hanging out with Lyra."

"I just need some time alone. To think, you know?"

"To think?" Sam wasn't sure he was talking to his brother.

"Am I speaking a language you're not getting?" Dean's irritation now surfacing.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to get out of here for a little while." Taking his keys from his pocket Dean started to walk towards the car.

"Did something happen?" Sam asked following Dean to the car. "With Lyra?"

Dean stopped just short of the car. "Yes. No. Everything's fine Sam. I just need some time away okay?"

"Okay," Sam backed off. "I'll see you later then."

Yanking the car door open Dean looked back at his younger brother. "I'll see you later," he replied getting into the car.

Sam watched as Dean peeled up the drive. Hearing the Impala's tires squawk as they met asphalt at the main road, the engine roared as he sped away. Something was seriously wrong, Sam thought. He hadn't seen Dean that upset in a long time.

oo00oo

The speedometer flirted with 80 miles per hour as the fence posts beside the road began to blur. Dean stared darkly at the road ahead. A sudden movement in the rear view mirror made his foot leave the gas pedal. His focus shifting to the back seat. Was someone back there?

"Are you trying to kill us?" Lyra asked as she sat up in the back seat.

"Jesus. Fuck!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You trying to give me a heart attack?" Dean accused as he pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road.

Climbing into the front seat. Lyra was now wearing faded blue jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes turned to face him darkened with concern.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

"Nothing. I just wanted some time. Alone."

Unimpressed with his answer Lyra sighed. "It's obvious something is bothering you. I just thought maybe you could tell me about it."

"Nothin' to tell." Dean insisted.

"You're like a wall. Impermeable."

Dean shrugged in response, saying nothing. They sat in tense silence both staring ahead out the windshield at the gathering darkness on the road.

Finally exasperated Lyra blurted, "Fine! I give up. I just thought if something was bothering you maybe I could help."

Heaving the passenger side door open, she stepped out onto the shoulder. Slamming the door shut she started walking back towards the way they'd just come.

"Hey!" Dean shouted getting out of the car to follow her. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the cabin."

"Walking?"

"Looks like."

"Wait. I'll drive you back." Catching up to her Dean grabbed her by the shoulder turning her towards him.

"It's okay. I'll walk."

"But it's getting dark," Dean argued.

"I think I can handle it," Lyra retorted.

Letting her walk away Dean couldn't stop himself calling out. "Oh yeah, with your new increased super powers! I guess you're invincible now."

"What?" Stopping in her tracks, Lyra twirled around to face him.

Dean didn't want to pursue this. It had been a mistake to bait her. He knew that.

"Forget it," he mumbled turning back towards the car.

"No. What did you say?"

Dean flicked the car door handle. Nothing happened. He hadn't locked it but it wouldn't open.

"Please don't fuck around with my car," he warned staring into the Impala's interior.

"Look at me, Dean." Lyra strode up to him.

Sighing Dean turned to face her. Damn it, why did she always look so hot? He wasn't going to fall for it this time.

Reaching up Lyra gently touched his face. "What's wrong?" Crystalline eyes pleading.

Backing away from her touch Dean tried to stay strong. He couldn't look at her, the pain apparent in her face. Looking away, down the road, he sighed deeply.

"I just," Dean began. "I can't do this," his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Do what?" Lyra's voice trembled, close to tears. She was trying to compose herself after he'd pulled away from her touch.

Summoning any residual anger Dean's voice rose, "Be your servant."

"My what?"

"Alchemist paramour. I know what it means, Lyra." Dean gave her a piercing look.

Stepping back Lyra felt like she'd been hit. Reaching out for the car roof for support.

"I mean," Dean continued bitterly. "It's been fun and all. But I think I've had enough. You got what you needed, all fired up for the big night."

"No," Lyra whispered. "It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it? You always do your boyfriends in the cemetary? Bit of kink for you? Did it increase your powers threefold?"

"But I brought you back to my flat afterwards…" Lyra felt lame.

"We did it nine times in total! I know about the power of three, Lyra." Dean's voice rising angrily. "Did it do it for you?"

"No. I mean," Lyra's voice faltered. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "It may have started that way but…"

Scoffing Dean looked up at the night sky. The stars were just coming out. Venus shone coldly against the navy velvet of the new night. I'm not falling for this, he thought hardening himself to the task.

"Yeah well," Dean yanked the car door open. "This is the way it ends."


	13. A Promise Made

Lucky # 13. Angsty! Love it :)

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Fuck." Dean muttered as he pulled the Impala over to the shoulder once again. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the steering wheel trying to untangle the chaos of emotions roiling within him. "Fuck," he repeated quietly.

How could he just drive away leaving her alone on the side of the road like that? The last thing he'd seen in the rear view was Lyra collapse to her knees. She was a rapidly shrinking image as he'd sped away but he'd seen her bring her hands to her face. She'd been weeping.

"Because she's a manipulative witch." Dean bolstered himself aloud. "She's just using me."

Why was she so upset then? He'd caught wind of her plan. Outed her. So what? They'd fucked each other's brains out. No harm, no foul. Why had he responded so emotionally? Why had she for that matter?

"Because she's a fucking good actress." Dean argued with himself. "Witches. They're all drama and spectacle anyway."

Turning the key, Dean sparked the engine back to life. Argument over. Pulling a hard u-turn he headed back towards her. He couldn't leave her. Not this way.

"Fuck," he whispered.

oo00oo

"Where is Lyra?" Dean asked sitting down at the dining room table across from Sam.

"Having a wee lie down," Jim replied. "She needs her rest."

Feeling a pang of guilt Dean wondered if Jim knew why Lyra was exhausted. If he knew how much Dean had upset her this evening. If he did he didn't seem to harbour any hard feelings towards Dean. Actually he had a silly grin on his face.

"I wanted to show you something, lads." Jim began excitedly.

Dean looked enquiringly at Sam who just shook his head. He had no idea what Jim wanted to show them.

"Sharpening those psychic abilities there, Sammy?" Dean teased as Jim left the room.

"Um," Sam feigning concentration and holding a palm to his forehead. "I'm seeing an angry father getting his shotgun. No wait! It's a .44 Magnum."

"Ha ha." Dean replied as Jim returned lugging a very large, long case. It kind of looked like his electric guitar case but heavier.

"Give us a hand here, lads." Jim raised the case slightly and with Sam and Dean's help got it onto the dinner table. It took up the entire length of the table.

"I've seen this case," remarked Dean remembering the first time he'd kissed Lyra in one of the cabin's bedrooms. "There was a strange blue light coming from it."

"I won't ask you what you were doing in my room, lad." Jim replied.

Sam smirked wondering if Jim did indeed own any handguns.

"But," Jim continued, "what you saw was the Claymore responding to any prescient energy nearby."

"The claymore?" Sam enquired.

Snapping the clasps up, Jim opened the long case. The inside of the case was padded and covered with indigo satin. The blade shone brightly against the deep blue of the lining.

"A highland broadsword," Jim stated. "Made by my ancestors around 1297 as a weapon against the invading English."

Grasping the large hilt of the sword Jim raised it carefully to avoid smashing the dining room light dangling overhead with the four-foot long blade. It looked heavy but Jim handled it with ease.

"Wow." Dean and Sam said simultaneously.

Chuckling Jim said, "I knew you two would appreciate a weapon like this."

Grasping the hilt with both hands Jim struck a stance and slowly made a slice through the air.

"Just like Highlander!" Sam said excitedly.

"Exactly lad!" Jim replied.

"There can be only one." Dean recited.

"Here give it a try," Jim handed the hilt to Dean.

It was fucking heavy. Four feet of metal blade with a hilt of hardwood wrapped in leather. Dean loved the feel of the weapon immediately. It exuded power.

"Let me try," Sam grinned.

Handing the sword off to Sam, Dean asked "Is this what you intend to kill the demon with?"

"Aye, lad."

"You sure it'll work?" Dean couldn't hide his skepticism.

"That sword," Jim pointed out as Sam admired the blade closely in the dining room light. "Was forged by the greatest mystic swordsmith of the Highlands under a full moon on the eve of battle. It was charmed by the most powerful Celtic witch of the time and blessed by the Druids. It was wetted on the blood of many, many English redcoats come to invade our lands and take our property."

"Uh," Sam sounded a bit panicked. "What's it doing?"

"That's what I saw it do!" Dean exclaimed seeing the blade turning blue.

"It senses your psychic energy Sam." Jim stated.

"Is it supposed to vibrate like this?" Sam asked.

"Command it Sam. Don't let it rule you."

The broadsword suddenly flew from Sam's hand. Lyra standing in the hall leading to the bedrooms clad only in pyjama bottoms and a black tank top, hair disheveled from sleep reached her hand upward to catch the hilt. Bringing the long sword down across her body she levelled a look at Jim.

"Can you keep it down out here?" she asked. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

oo00oo

"Can you shoot a crossbow lad?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Dean replied.

They were out in the garage now. A couple of the British guys were strumming guitars quietly in the corner. Dean thought he recognized an old Traffic song 'Can't Find My Way Home'.

"Here," Jim handed Dean a large automatic crossbow. "You can use this tomorrow night."

"Cool," Dean liked the weight of this weapon as well. No guns, he thought. This will be different.

"You don't use ordinary arrows with this though." Pulling a quiver full of arrows out of a cabinet Jim showed him the tip of one. "White crystal point."

"Sweet," Dean replied grazing his fingertip over the sharp point of the arrowhead.

"Kind of like your 12 gauge rock salt," Jim explained. "White crystal fired directly into the heart of a demon won't kill it but it will certainly repel it."

oo00oo

"I can't sleep." Sam stated from the next bed.

"Yeah, me either." Dean agreed.

"Did you talk to Lyra after you got back to the cabin?"

"Nah, not really." Dean admitted.

"She looked pretty pissed off when you got back."

"Yeah. I probably blew this one."

"You should go talk to her now," Sam suggested.

"Nah, she's probably sleeping."

"No," Sam confirmed. "She's not."

Dean gave his brother a quizzical look.

"Don't look at me like that," Sam said chuckling.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm a freak."

"You've always been a little freaky, Sam. Even before all this ESP shit."

"Yeah well. Don't blame me for trying to help you out. You need the help, man."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I just mean, sometimes you could use a little guidance in the whole relationship area."

"Okay, Dr. Phil. Thanks for the advice."

"I just think," Sam explained, "that if tonight is the night before something really big and potentially catastrophic happens that you should maybe open up a little, for a change, get things off your chest with Lyra. If that would help."

Dean rolled over to face Sam in the neighbouring bed. Sitting up on one elbow he eyed is brother intently. "You think something catastrophic is going to happen tomorrow night?"

"Well, I don't know for sure. But shit, how often do we face off against a demon Dean?"

Flopping back on his pillow Dean looked exasperatedly at the ceiling. "Hopefully only once every 22 years Sammy."

"You should go talk to her."

"Fuck. Okay! Okay." Dean got out of bed pulling on his jeans he left the room.

Padding down the hallway he knocked very softly on Lyra's bedroom door before opening it a crack. It was dark inside.

"Lyra," he whispered tentatively.

No response. He could hear her soft breathing. He knew she was asleep. What the fuck was Sam on about? Silently he started to shut the door.

"Dean," Lyra's voice was barely a whisper. "What is it?"

Closing his eyes briefly Dean tried to formulate some kind of speech. He entered her room quietly shutting the door behind him. Standing with his back to the door looking in the general direction of her voice Dean started, "I just wanted to talk to you. If you weren't sleeping."

"I'm not sleeping."

"Okay. Right. Well, I just wanted to apologize for upsetting you earlier tonight. I'm sorry if I over-reacted but I was just taken a little aback by the whole witchcraft paramour thing."

This was a fucking lame start, Dean thought despairingly. He wanted to just back out of the room and pretend this had never happened. He wanted to smack Sam.

"I'm sorry too, Dean."

He heard the genuine remorse in her voice. It pained him.

"Will you come sit over here?" Lyra asked.

Dean's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. In the moonlight streaming through the curtain he could just make out the edge of her bed. He sat on the bed. Lyra's arms wrapped around him, she laid her head on his chest. It felt good to hold her.

"I'm sorry," Lyra repeated. "I just want this to be over. To free Katie and have everyone survive. I wish I'd never dragged you and Sam into this."

Dean stroked her neck softly beneath her hair. "Don't say that," he murmured into the top of her head.

Pulling back to face him Dean could see her cheeks wet with tears. "You don't know what we'll be up against tomorrow night," she warned. "You shouldn't be involved in this."

"We're big boys, Lyra. We'll take care of ourselves."

"No, Dean. You have no idea."

"We have some idea, Lyra. We do."

Comprehending, Lyra stopped crying. She sniffed softly. "You had a dream the first night you stayed here. I saw…."

Dean said nothing but continued to stroke her neck. How much had she seen? How much did she know of his thoughts? He felt uncomfortable suddenly but couldn't pull away.

"You were very young when the demon came," Lyra looked into his eyes confirming the truth. "It killed your mother and you saved Sam from the fire."

Then sensing Dean's unease added, "That's all I know. Your dream left a powerful imprint on your mind."

Drawing in a deep breath Dean began to tell her the story of his father. Their family quest for revenge. When he was done, what seemed like days later, he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Gently caressing Dean's face Lyra pulled him to her kissing him softly and deeply. When they parted she made her promise.

"Dean, if you help me free Katie I swear to you I will help you find and kill the demon that killed your mother. On my life, I swear it."

The moonlight made her blue eyes appear even clearer. Not cold but penetrating. Honest. Dean was touched beyond words.

"Thank you," was all he could manage.

Pulling him into bed with her she wrapped her arms around him. They fell asleep almost immediately.


	14. Confronting the Demon

**Chapter 14**

Crossing both daggers over her head Sophia incanted the protection spell. A fine silvery web flew over their heads and then disappeared although if Dean tilted his head a certain way he could see the air wavering like the night on the road outside the cemetary when Lyra had cast the protection against Abrasax.

The coven began chanting in Celtic. Jim stepped forward and called to the North in the ancient language. They were calling the corners. It was starting. Dean cast a glance at Sam who looked nervous. Willing his younger brother to look at him he caught Sam's eye.

Dean cocked his crossbow giving Sam a quick reassuring nod. It would be all right; Dean was trying to tell him. Sam appreciated the gesture and smiled stoicly, his resolve strengthened.

All thirteen of them had gathered in this remote corner of the delapidated cemetary. They were in front of a massive stone mausoleum overgrown with vines. Lyra had felt the ley lines converging nearby and even Sam's spider sense had started tingling. This was the place.

Lyra had called to the West; they were now Drawing Down the Moon. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck were prickling. Never a good sign. Sophia stepped towards Sam giving him one of her daggers. Facing each other they crossed the blades and began their own quiet intoning. Dean knew they were putting out a psychic beacon, a signal that would draw any evil being to them. Once summoned, the demon would be drawn to this exact spot.

Dean kept a close eye on the tomb's heavy stone doors as the coven Invoked the Goddess. Lyra was calling to the Goddess in Celtic, Dean couldn't understand the words but he knew she was asking her for strength and protection against the dark forces. A strange white glow appeared around Lyra, enveloping her. Her athame flashed white against her black cloak. Lyra pointed the silver knife towards Sam and Sophia and then directly at Dean. He felt warmth in his chest; his breathing slowed slightly and he could hear his own heart beating. He felt strengthened, secure. Lyra looked at him, her blue eyes crystalline, red lips moving in incantation. She was praying for him, for his protection. He knew that. His heart swelled with gratitude. And perhaps something more? Dean felt the bond between them, a white light directly from the tip of her athame to his heart. He conveyed his feelings back to her, wishing her luck, promising her protection. He meant to stop there but one last sentiment escaped before he could stop it.

I love you, too. He heard Lyra's voice clearly in his mind. She hadn't spoken but was still looking at him, her face aglow with the white light. A reassuring smile and then she turned her focus back to the coven. They began summoning Rabisu.

Dean felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. The nearby trees creaked and groaned, leaves swishing anxiously. A cold wind blew from out of nowhere and he heard the scrape of heavy stone against the tomb's floor.

The massive doors swung slowly open revealing a cavernous darkness inside the mausoleum. Nothing stepped forth. The coven stopped chanting. The wind had stopped. The trees were still. The world held its breath waiting for its arrival. Nothing happened.

"Show yourself demon!" Sophia called into the dark vault.

Jesus, was the woman afraid of nothing? Dean thought wildly. He raised his crossbow in anticipation.

"_Ylyn hzmnw Rabisu?_" A booming, unnatural voice echoed from out of the darkness. Aramaic, Jim had explained to them last night. The language of the world at the time the demons were cast out of heaven and into hell.

Jim answered loudly in the same tongue; "We summon Rabisu. Great demon, we worship you. Allow us to gaze upon you Dark Lord."

Dean felt the heat and smelt the foul sulphurous stench before he saw it. Feeling the earth tremble as heavy footsteps fell upon the tomb floor. He saw the eyes first. Glowing red embers from deep in the darkness.

oo00oo

Dean wasn't sure who started the fight but instantaneously it became clear the demon didn't appreciate travelling all this way _not_ to be worshipped.

The demon made a lunge at Sophia and Sam. Jim stabbed at it with the broadsword drawing its attention towards him. As the demon turned Dean fired a crystal-tipped arrow into its chest. He thought it hit its heart but who the hell knew if demons and humans shared similar anatomy?

Jim held the claymore high in front of him shouting an Aramaic curse at Rabisu. A blinding light flashed. Unlike the confrontation with Abrasax, the curse failed to destroy Rabisu. It knocked him back a couple steps which Dean took advantage of firing an arrow into the side of the demon's head.

"That's gotta hurt," Dean murmured as he loaded another arrow. Quick as lightning Dean saw something flying towards him. A tail, he vaguely registered. The demon had a tail. Lifting Dean off his feet, he was flung across the tomb site by the lizardlike tail.

oo00oo

Dean lay still for a moment trying to recover from the minor explosion in his mind. His ears rang and his head pounded as he felt a trickle of blood down the side of his face. Rolling onto one side he supported himself up on one elbow taking in the mayhem happening just a few feet away.

The demon had to be ten feet tall. Nostrils flared as it inhaled deeply then exhaled a stream of fire at Sophia. Crossing her arms in front of her she instantaneously summoned a shield of energy protecting herself from incineration. Dean had to admit she was pretty good at defending herself.

Ducking the deflected flames from Sophia, Sam extending both hands summoned a large chunk of granite from a nearby tombstone crashing it straight into the side of the demon's head. Nice one Sammy, Dean thought proudly.

Jim had lost his broadsword but brandished a wicked looking axe. He flung it directly at the demon's back embedding it between what would have been shoulder blades on a human. Finally responding to injury the demon stopped its carnage momentarily arching its back and letting out a terrible scream. The cry was like a hundred pterydactyls and a runaway locomotive crashing together.

Dean tried to get up and made it as far as his knees, the ground was heaving. He wasn't sure if it really was heaving or it was the result of his head injury. Clearly he saw Lyra beside the demon. She was looking at the broadsword flung to the ground, reaching out her hand she impelled the claymore to her. In one fluid motion she grasped the hilt with both hands and swung with all her force as the demon's head was flung back screaming in pain.

The sword sliced the demon's throat deeply. Black blood sprang from the gaping wound and the demon's screaming became a horrible gurgling noise. Dean rose to his feet unsteadily. The sword had not decapitated the demon completely although the wound in its throat had to be fatal. Hadn't it? At the very least it had thrown the demon into a panic.

Lyra was preparing to take another swing with the broadsword as the demon turned away quickly. Now aware of its powerful tail Dean avoided its sweep this time.

"Lyra!" Dean shouted. But she was focussed on the demon's neck. Its tail caught her flinging her airborne and crashing into a nearby tomb wall. The claymore flew from her hand as her body collapsed motionless to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he approached his brother. The demon's back was to them; it was confronting the rest of the coven. Extending his arm Sam stared hard. Suddenly the imbedded axe flew out of the demon's back and into Sam's hand.

"Here," Sam handed Dean the axe. "I'll distract him."

The searing pain in the demon's back made it turn. Its responses were slowing. The demon gazed dully at Sam as he stepped forward to confront it. Dean saw the demon's nostrils flare and knew he was about to firebomb Sam. Stepping to the side of the demon Dean took a full swing landing the axe squarely on the back of the demon's neck. He felt the sickening crunch of its spine and then nothing. Just air, as the axe swung clean through. Lyra had slashed a deep wound across the front of its neck, just short of the backbone.

Jumping clear Dean avoided the spray of black blood as the demon's head toppled to the ground. The headless body spasmed for a minute before collapsing in a motionless heap. The coven drew together chanting as Dean let the axe fall from his hand. The earth took another leap as Dean's knees gave way. He felt a strong arm around him holding him up from falling.

"I gotcha." Sam said.

"Sammy," Dean whispered hoarsely. "Where's Lyra?"

Sophia threw some kind of powder onto the demon's decapitated head and the coven spoke in unison. Suddenly the earth heaved throwing both brothers to the ground and thunder cracked overhead. A flash of lightning lit the area as bright as day for a moment as they saw the demon's body and head implode into dust.

Then silence. Not a cricket chirp. Not a leaf rustle. Dead silence descended. The air was still once more. The thunder and lightning gone. Something drew Dean's eye. Next to the tomb door where Rabisu had made his entrance was Lyra lying in the grass.

Stumbling across the grass he knelt beside her. She was deathly pale, her lips looked blue and her chest was motionless.

"Lyra," his voice ragged with emotion. "Wake up."

Sliding his arm beneath her he pressed her to him hoping to infuse his life into her. Her face felt icy next to his. "Wake up. It's over," he pleaded into her unhearing ear.


	15. Parting

**Chapter 15**

Dean's eyes burned, his vision blurred by tears as he looked down at Lyra lying in his arms. Lifeless.

"Katie." He heard Lyra's voice but her lips hadn't moved. Looking up he saw Lyra staggering towards him. A single rivulet of blood ran down the side of her face. Grasping his shoulder, Lyra collapsed to her knees next to Dean.

"Lyra?"

"This is my sister, Katie. My twin sister."

Comprehension and relief swept over Dean like a tidal wave. Twin sisters. Identical twins. Gently he handed Katie's body over to Lyra who held her quietly whispering to her. Placing his hand softly on Lyra's back trying to comfort her he was overwhelmed by his emotions.

Clutching Katie to her, Lyra turned her head to look at Dean.

Tears streaming down her face mixing with the blood. "Thank you," she said simply.

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're welcome," Dean whispered.

"Katie, love." Jim stood behind them. The claymore dropped from his hand onto the grass with a heavy thud. Dean rose to allow Jim to kneel beside his daughter. Daughters. The live one and the dead one.

Feeling bereft Dean looked for Sam. He was walking across the charred lawn, his arm around Sophia supporting her. Collapsing to her knees beside Lyra, Sophia placed a gentle kiss on Katie's pale brow. Sophia said something quietly in Latin. A prayer? A goodbye?

Huddling together the three family members looked upon Katie as she slowly opened her eyes. Blue, like Lyra's, there was something unnatural about them Dean noted. Katie's eyes had a milky-white film, although they were open they still looked dead.

Katie's lips parted slightly, "Thank you." She whispered her voice like dried leaves blowing across a wintery sidewalk.

"You're welcome," Jim replied clasping Katie's hand in his. "Go in peace, my love." Jim kissed her hand softly and placed it gently across her body. As he let go of her hand, his shoulders shook. He wept quietly.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes. It was hard to watch the big Scot break down like this.

Katie looked at her mother and sister. "Goodbye. I love you," she said simply.

"I love you, my darling. Blessed be." Sophia said caressing Katie's long dark hair.

Katie's skin was so pale it was translucent. Dean could see the lawn beneath her through her skin. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he looked again. She was fading.

"No," Lyra said weakly through her sobs. "Don't go."

"Be strong, Lyra." Katie said. "You've always been the strong one."

"Please Katie." Lyra begged. "Don't go."

With a soft sigh Katie closed her eyes. A breeze blew across the lawn and she was gone. Lyra's arms were empty as she lay across the ground where her sister had been just a moment ago. Crying hard, Lyra's voice broke.

"No. Don't go." Lyra collapsed crying onto the grass.


	16. is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Chapter 16**

Household Tales

by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

**Snow-White and Rose-Red**

THERE was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white and the other Rose-red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful, as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother, and helped her with her house-work, or read to her when there was nothing to do.

The two children were so fond of each other that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow-white said, "We will not leave each other," Rose-red answered, "Never so long as we live."

They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries and no beasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever they knew.

No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest and night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss, and slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and had not distress on their account.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They had brought Lyra back to her flat over the occult shop where she had lain in bed and cried for three days. Jim, Sophia and Dean had taken turns trying to comfort her. Encouraging her to eat small bits of food, drink tea and cooling her face, grown puffy and hot from crying, with compresses. On the third day, Lyra and her parents had assembled with their Celtic coven in the oak grove near Jim's cabin for a Wiccan funeral ceremony.

Dean and Sam had attended. There was no body to bury so everyone stood around a small empty hole in the ground in which the family and friends placed Katie's athame and chalice wrapped in her ritual cloak. Some people placed herbs in the grave and poured wine onto the earth.

Lyra looked thin and tired. Her beautiful dark hair hung straight and looked shiny in the sunlight but framed her face, a bit too pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath her eyes. The coven asked the Goddess to guide Katie's spirit to 'The Summerlands': to everlasting peace and contentment. It was a nice ceremony, thought Dean. Not full of flowery words and sentiments the way some funerals can be and not held in a somber, formal church. Deep in the forest, surrounded by bird song and sunlight, the coven spoke of returning to the Earth, to the Mother Goddess and eternal creation.

Looking at Lyra, Dean's heart was heavy thinking of the overwhelming weight of sorrow he'd feel if he ever lost Sam. Dean couldn't begin to imagine her loss.

oo00oo

Dean knocked twice on the door to Lyra's apartment. He heard soft footsteps on the other side and the door swung open. She looked better. Rested. But still had the drawn look of someone in deep sorrow.

"Hi," he began shyly.

"Hi," Lyra replied. "Come in."

As Dean entered the apartment he saw moving boxes stacked in the living room. Piles of books ready to be packed. Through her bedroom door he saw clothes piled high on her bed. They hadn't spoken about her plans after Katie's release. He only knew what he'd come here to ask her.

"You're leaving Salem?"

"Yes. Dad and I are done here," Lyra replied with finality.

Dean took a deep breath trying to compile his thoughts.

"Crystal and John will be taking over the shop downstairs," Lyra continued. "Dad is going home to Scotland for awhile to be near the family there."

"And you?" Dean's voice wavered slightly. The uncertainty in his eyes made Lyra's heart swell.

"I made a deal with my mom." Lyra smiled sadly.

"A deal?"

"Yes, she agreed to come help kill the demon if I would agree to work with her in Rome."

"Oh," was all Dean could manage. What had he expected? That she'd actually want to stick with him?

Seeing the disappointment register in Dean's face Lyra caressed his cheek softly. Placing a long kiss on his soft lips. Dean's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to him.

Drawing apart finally, Lyra continued a little breathlessly. "It's not that my mother wouldn't come to help, to free Katie. It's just she thought our plan was crazy and she would only agree to it if I promised to apprentice under her in Rome. If we all came out of this alive."

"Apprentice in Rome…" Dean repeated the words letting them sink in.

"I will become a much stronger witch. Rome is a powerful place mystically and my mother's work is quite…uh, high end. She is exclusive with the Vatican."

Of course, thought Dean. Why the hell would she want to tour around with him and Sam in the backwater counties of America chasing God knows what with 12 gauges and half-assed plans?

"Dean," Lyra clasped his face in her hands. "I will never forget my promise to you. I'm going to Rome to gain strength and experience fighting demons. When you need me, when you are ready to confront the demon that killed your mother I'll be here for you. I promise. Just call me. Okay?"

"Sure," Dean nodded pulling away from her embrace. "I'll call you."

The cliché words rang false, he felt the need to get out of here. He felt in over his head, like he was drowning.

"Dean, don't go yet. I mean it. I will come back and help you. I'll be a stronger sorceress by then. I promise."

Dean nodded silently but continued to back towards the door.

"Wait," Lyra grasped his hand. "I have something for you."

Dean smiled slyly as she led him into the bedroom.

oo00oo

Dean floored the Impala as they whipped past the Salem city limits sign.

"Wow, working for the Vatican." Sam stated next to him.

"Yeah, she says it's pretty lucrative and she wants to strengthen her powers as a witch." Dean looked darkly at the road ahead. He'd been in a bad mood since returning to the motel Lyra-less. He'd said very little to Sam as they packed the car and had only started explaining the situation as they'd begun to drive.

"Well," Sam noted,"she'll be a good friend to call on when the time comes to confront our demon."

"Yeah," Dean admitted reluctantly. He pulled the card from the front pocket of his shirt handing it to Sam. On the back of the tarot card was a lengthy, presumably European, phone number. Sam flipped it over to see the face of the card.

It was a picture of a guy wrestling a lion to the ground. 'Strength' was printed beneath the image.

"Huh," was all Sam said.

Dean pressed the gas pedal further as the engine responded with a roar. The Impala's red tail lights speeding away as they headed West.

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THANKS FOR READING! Hope you enjoyed! sirannon


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